
■\ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



. Shelf ,G\3s6~ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



AUTUMN LEAVES, 



BY 



Mrs, M, MrB, GOODWIN. 



B5 



O, may the Autumn of life grow fair, 
With duties done ; faith sealed by prayer ; 
May falling leaves be an smblem true 
Of the Glory-land, while we keep in view 
Plans, purposes, and hopes, that rise 
Through all our weakness, to the skies. 



ST. LOUIS: 
Christian Publishing Company, 

1880. 



7S i^n 

.a 3^ 



copyright by 

Christian Publishing Company. 

1880. 



IZ-^^-(cll 



These penciled Leaflets are 

Dedicated to the Memory of my Loved Ones^ 

Who, though faded from Earth like 

AUTUMN LEAVES, 

Still live in Memorv, crowned with unfading laurels 

From the Evergreen Tree 

Which overshadows the River of Life. 

Drift down, brown leaves, upon their graves, 

And lovingly cover the sod ; 
Though faded and dyin^, ye breathe to my soul, 

New faith in Heaven and God. 



PREFACE. 

This little volume will scarcely find its way to any homes or 

hearts save those of friends — friends, it may be, with whom I 

have held sweet Christian communion, or others, (dear for the 

words of cheer thej^ 've spoken,) into whose faces I have never 

looked; yet the sympathy of these known and unknown friends 

— faithful friends, dwelling afar or near — has been a bond and 

blessing, and with feelings warm and tender, I would bequeath 

my " Autumn Leaves ' to those that love me, and to those that I 

love, trusting that my humble songs may fall, like a low breathed 

benediction, upon hearts sad as my own, and prove an inspiration 

to weary souls to '* wait and pray " amid earth's tangled paths: 

" And yield not up their trust, 
For God, our God, is good and just. " 



CONTENTS. 

PAGfi. 

At the Gate, 13 

Faded Flowers, . -. . .... 14 

Mamma's Baby, 15 

Labor is Life, 16 

The Waif, i7 

The River Path, 18 

My Ship, 20 

Our Treasures, 21 

Morning, 21 

The Place of Prayer, . 22 

God is Our Refuge, ... ... 23 

The Seasons, 24 

Extracts From Living Oracles, 25 

My Childhood Home, . ." . . . , .26 

Two Meetings, .... ... 27 

Speak Living Words, 27 

Remember, 28 

The Sparrows, . . . 29 

Baby is Dead and Mother is Weeping, .... 29 

An Old, Old Story, 3° 

A Fable, 32 

"As the Twig is Bent the Tree Inclines," ... 33 

Our Hero, , 34 

The Mother's Lament After the Battle, ... 37 

Passing Away, .37 

Not There, 38 

May, 39 

v'i 



viii Contents. 

Mj Castle in the Air, , . 40 

Believest Thou? 41 

Winter, ... - 42 

The Year's Farewell, 43 

The Christian's Work, 44 

An Editor's Waste Basket, 46 

The Choice, 47 

Song of Spring, ........ 49 

''The Master Calleth for Thee," 49 

Unanswered Prayers, ... ... 50 

The Beautiful Gate, 51 

My Vision, 52 

Praise, » • • • 54 

Over the River, 54 

Destiny, 55 

<' At Spes Non Fracta," 56 

Labor While You Miiy, 57 

<' Ora et Labora," 5S 

The Little One's Praver, 59 

Thanksgiving, .......•• 60 

Desolation, . 61 

Wandering, ........ . .62 

Only a Step, 63 

Shall We Know Each Other In Heaven ? . . . .64 

Asleep At His Post, 65 

"Father, Guide Me! " .66 

Flowers of Olden Time, 67 

The Cry of a Lost Soul! 69 

After Death, . . - 69 

The Past, 70 

The Unknown, 72 

An Editor's Musing, 73 

The Next To Die, * • . 75 

Brother Ben and I, 77 



CONTENTS. ix 

Contentment, • ... 79 

Night, 80 

Answer Your Own Prayers, 81 

Our Lesson, 84 

Christmas Hymn, 86 

Silent Conquests, . 87 

To a Friend on Her Thirty fir. a UWa. J v, ... 88 

Morning Prayer, 90 

The Old and New Year, 90 

God is Our Refuge, 91 

A Prayer for Strength, 92 

Spring, 94 

Doubting Castle, ........ 95 

Thej Say, . ^ 96 

The sea, 97 

Love, - 98 

The D>'ing Year, 99 

Violets, 99 

The Rose, 99 

The Dove and the Cherub; 100 

May and I, 102 

The Secret, 103 

Idol Worship, 105 

Jesus of Nazareth, 112 

Farewell, 114 

The Death March, 115 

June, 116 

The Fisherman Song, 117 

The Ocean, 118 

Overshadowed, 120 

The Land of Beauty, 121 

The Swallows' Welcome, 122 

December, •.....,.. 123 



X CONTENTS. 

Restored, 124 

The Blue Bird, .... 126 

Little Sunbeam, 128 

Only Tears to Give, . . 128 

Lost and Saved, 130 

My Dream, 131 

Charity, 133 

In Memory, . . 133 

The Outcast, 135 

The Angels of the Flowers, 137 

A Legend, 139 

The City, 140 

Youth and Age, . 142 

Thy Way, 144 

A Prayer, 145 

Wishes, . 146 

'Tis Home Where the Heart Is, . . . . . -147 

The Woodland River, 148 

The Year's Diary, 149 

The Christian Poetess, Marie R. Butler, . . . 151 

Poor Farmer John, 152 

Submission, 154 

God's Promise, 155 

Does He Know, 157 

Hidden Life, 15S 

Our Life Dream, . 159 

A Home On the Other Side, 160 

A Tribute of Love, 161 

Dead, 163 

Spirit Longings, 164 

The Woman's War, 165 

Palmyra, 167 

Faith 168 



CONTENTS. Xi 

Home, . 169 

Life's Lesson, 171 

Here and Hereafter, 173 

The Ocean Dead, 174 

Autumnalis, 176 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 



AT THE GATE. 



Is THERE room in your hearts, for me, my friends? 

And, is there room in your homes? 
Friends unseen— friends a-near, I would 

Clasp your hands in my own ! 

Have you kept a welcome for me my friends? 

A place for my " Autumn Leaves," 
And for the wayside buds and flowers, 

I found among the sheaves? 



For I'm only a toil-worn gleaner, friends; 

Stranger hands must reap the grain 
Where'er the harvest's sea of gold 

Stretches across the plain. 

The seed that I sowed in spring time, friends, 

In summer withered away 
Beneath the scorching heat of pain, 

Bringing no harvest day. 

I have little to offer you, my friends; 

Some poppies of scarlet hue, 
A spray of blue " forget-me-not". 

Leaves from the sombre yew. 

13 



14 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Majhap, you will find with the leaves, my friends, 

A sheaflet of ripened grain, 
Gleaned for you, with trembling hands, 

Amid the falling rain. 

My hands, that a-wearv have grown, my friends, 
My eyes, that with tears are blind, 

Oft vainly search for scattered grains, 
The reapers failed to bind. 

Let me clasp your hands in my own, my friends, 
Do not spurn my leaves and flowers, 

Gathered for you and bound in love, 
Amid life's darksome hours. 



FADED FLOWERS. 

I WANDERED forth at early dawn 

And saw a violet blue. 
Sleeping beneath its glossy leaves. 

Wet with the glistening dew. 
Its perfume filled the morning air 

But ere one little hour 
Some careless foot upon it trod — 

It lay a withered flower. 

A sun-kissed rose, with dewy lips. 
Lent fragrance to the breeze, 

Sighing, with low and gentle breath, 
Among her crimson leaves ; 

But a wild storm, in sullen wrath. 
Swept over that sweet bower, 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 15 

And on the grass the fair rose lay 
A broken, withered flower. 

From out the depths of gleaming waves, 

A pure white lily grew, 
And, wondering, raised her eves above — 

While paler, still, she grew — 
As ruthless tides swept fiercely by, 

Nor stayed their maddening power, 
She meekly bowed her head and died, 

A crushed and broken flower. 

Life often seems with fragrance rife. 

Flowers blossom round our way. 
But sorrow's waves sweep o'er the soul. 

And bright hope fades away ; 
We weary of earth's toil and strife. 

And of life's gloomy hours. 
Where joys are Ij'ing cold and dead, 

Like bi'oken withered flowers. 



MAMMA'S BABY. 

With pattering feet, a-down the path. 

In glee the baby ran. 
And creeping 'neath the pasture bar 

His "march of life," began. 
At last he paused beside the bridge 

Which spanned the murmuring stream, 
And laughed in glee, watching the waves. 

In the bright sunlight gleam. 



i6 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

The mother missed her prattling boj, 

Her heart with fear stood still ; 
She hastened down the shady lane, 

And 'round the wooded hill ; 
And then along the dusty road 

Her anxious way she took 
T(j where a rustic bridge was thrown 

Across the meadow brook. 

She found him there, her precious child, 

His pockets running o'er 
With tortoise eggs and pebbles white, 

While on the sandy shore 
His ball, unnoticed rolled awaj-, 

As, grasped in one fat hand, 
He gravel}^ held a pearl-lined shell, 

Picked from the glistening sand. 

Just then the robin's sw^eet refrain 

Came from a swaying tree ; 
With sparkling eyes the baby cried, 

''The robin sings for me!" 
The mother caught him in her arms ; 

He wondered at her tears. 
And whispered, " What makes mamma cry?" 

Ah! childhood has no fears. 



LABOR IS LIFE. 

The rivulet sings, but works the while, 
As 'tis hastening to the sea. 
And scarcely stops to kiss the flowers 
That are blooming on the lea, 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 17 

The river with its winding sweep, 

Its current brave and strong, 
And ocean, bearing merchant lleets, 

Sing labor's ceaseless song. 

The tiny shells upon the beach — 

The workmen 'neath the wa\es 
Who build their coral palaces, 

And find in them their graves. 
Repeat great Nature's mystic law: 

*' Labor alone is life ;" 
And he who wars 'gainst heaven's decree 

Must perish in the strife. 



THE WAIF. 



Only a miserable waif, 
A wanderer of the street ! 

One of the thousand poor, 
That everywhere we meet. 

Only an outcast child ; 

So pass him by in sccrn, 
Nurtured in filth and want, 

Poverty-bred and born. 

Ah ! coldly turn away ; 

Let him starve alone ; 
He comes to you for bread ! 

Give from the streets a :; tone. 

A heathen? Yes, 'tis true! 
And there 's a story old, 



iS A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Of One who came to bring, 
Such wanderers to the fold! 

A story strange as true, 
Scarcely remembered now, 

By those who proudly cry, 
"I'm holier than thou! " 

Ye, in your jewels rare, 

He, in his filth and sham.e — 
" Not his keeper! " one of old. 
Remember, said the same. 

"Christ's poor," with souls to save. 

Spite of your steeples tall, 
Tempted by hunger — cold — ■ 
What wonder such should fall! 

Sermons, 'neath frescoed domes. 
Nor prayer-books clasped in gold, 

Can gather straying lambs 
Into the Master's fold. 

He bade us ''' watch and pray,"' 
And bind our sheaves with care. 

And prune the leafless tree, 
'Till fruit for God it bear. 



THE RIVER PATH. 

There's a wild, Avild path through a tangled wood, 

Close beside a winding river. 
And it follows its bendings in and out. 

As the waves roll on forever. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 19 

Manj^ are treading this 'wildering path, 

Earthly feet that oft grow wearj, 
As thej follow the river's winding curves, 

'Till the night falls thick and dreary. 

There's many a song by the wayside sung; 

Gay songs of joy and of pleasure ; 
But oft'ner still 'tis a funeral strain, 

Vv'ith a slow and solemn measure. 

On, on, sweep the waves with a ccasless moan, 

And the wanderers pause and listen. 
For the low, slow beat of the falling oars. 

Where the Avaves on the lee shore glisten. 

Death's icy hand holds the helm and the oar — 

The keel on the sand is grating — 
And the boatman pale calls the sorrow-worn, 

Who have grown a-weary waiting. 

Through the mist of tears they can see afar, 

A Star on the head-lands gleaming; 
Over tempestuous, surging waves. 

Its radiant light is streaming. 

That mj^stic light is our hope and guide. 

As the boat floats down the river, 
'Till we anchor safe on the wond'rous shore. 

In the land of the bright Forever. 



AUTUMN LEA VES. 



MY SHIP. 



The sails were set; the breeze was fair; 
Like a white sea bird on the wing, 
My ship was launched ; I smiling said, 
Rich treasures from the East she'll bring: 
Ah, priceless treasures, soon, for me 
Mv ship will bring from o'er the sea. 

Many a richly freighted boat 

I'd seen go down beneath the main; 
Ships with their bright flags waving free, 
Sail forth, never to come again. 

Yet still 'I dreamed that fate, for me. 
Would send my barque across the sea. 

A storm}' sea. a stormy sky, — 

And all my toil and hope were vain ; 
The sails were rent by wintry winds, 
My ship was lost upon the main. 
Others have also wept to see, 
Their boats go down upon life's sea! 

Ah, when you launch your life-boat, pray 
That all your hopes be true and pure ; 
Set 3'our white sails for Heavenly coasts, 
The harbor safe, the rest secure; 
A light-house standing on the lee, 
Will guide us o'er life's troubled sea. 



A v'tumn lea vbs, a- 



OUR TREASURES. 

A VACANT crib, up in the chamber, 

A chair by the parlor door, 
Tiri}^ mittens — a cap with tassels, 

And the shoes that babj wore. 

A flower plucked, by hands now folded, 

Calmly o'er that silent breast. 
A picture held with fond embracing, 

Ere he sank to dreamless rest. 

A little grave down in the meadow — 

Above it the daisies grow; 
And mosses creep around the marble, 

And violets, bending low. 

A hope to meet when storms are over, 
A faith that no clouds can chill ; 

Ah, these are treasures, priceless treasures, 
And we bide the Father's will. 



MORNING. 



Arise ! for the angel of morning 

Has painted the eastern sky; 
Night's shadows have fled to the valleys. 

Or deep in the woodlands lie. 
The whip-poor-will hushes his grieving, 

The voice of the night-hawk is still ; 
Sweet morning, in glorified raiment. 

Walks over the valley and hill. 



22 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

" Let light be! " Heaven's silence is broken! 

Day's banner is swiftly unfurled, 
And the voices of angels are chanting: 

" God's throne is the light of the world." 
The hush of a new creation 

Falls over the waking earth, 
As the day, down a starry ladder, 

Is sent, child of heavenly birth. 

A voice seems to ring through the gloaming: 

" Lo, I am the light and the way! " 
Arise then, and " work while the day lasts! " 

7~ouve the promise of only to-day \ 
Then if thorns in the path crowd the roses, 

And our cross seemeth heavy to bear. 
We know the dear Lord, in our weakness, 

Will guard us with tenderest care. 



THE PLACE OF PRAYER. 

The church bell chimes the hour for pra^-cr, 

And through the silent street. 
And, through the darkness and the storm, 

W^end many willing feet — 
And willing souls, O God, to Thee, 
To raise the heart and bow the knee. 

An aged man — a lonely man — 

Whose friends are in the grave. 
Prays for his country, for the land 

His son had died to save : 
O, let the hand which holds the rod, 
Descend in mercv, O my God! " 



A VTUMN LEA VES. 23 

A mother kneels, and prays 'mid tears: 

'' Be thou, O Lord, mj shield; 
My first-born, and my only son, 

Lies on the battle-field." 
No prayer was ever raised in vain ; 
God soothes all anguish, grief and painl 

A maiden kneels amid the throng, 

In tears — hear Thou her prayer — 
For, faraway, her lover lies 

With blood-drops in his hair. 
Ah, pray for strength, poor weary dove, 
All vain the prayer tor earthly love. 

Another kneels; but from her lips, 

So pale, issues no word ; 
But to the throne an angel bears 

The prayer, on earth, unheard ; 
A lost lamb heeds the Master's voice, 
And angels 'round the throne rejoice. 



GOD IS OUR REFUGE. 

God is our refuge, to him we will fly, 

When the dark clouds of sorrow are gathering nigh; 

When tempests of anguish over us roll, 

The love of the Savior brings peace to the soul. 

God is our strength, his children he'll guide. 
Keep them free from temptation, from envy and pride ; 
To the careless, the sinful, who stray from the fold, 
His care is unceasing, his love is untold. 



24 A t/TLTMN- LEA VES. 

On mount or in valley, O why should we fear! 
Wherever we wander, he always is near; 
With garments of glory he covers the land, 
AnJ blessss his childreTi with bountiful hand. 

His wisdom unbounded, his promises sure, 
His mercy unfathomed, " through time shall endure." 
Though the earth \vere removed — time no more to be — 
He 's our " City of Refuge," to him we will flee. 



THE SEASONS. 



Winter, unwept, has died alone, 

And Spring is seated upon Time's throne; 

Spring, with her rose-buds, mint and thyme, 

Who came, flower-wreathed, from a sunny clime. 

The distant trees M'ear a sunny hue ; 

The far-off mountains a vail of blue ; 

The mists of the river, like silver sheen, 

Hide meadows fair, in dress of green. 

But Spring, with the many gone before, 

Is nearing the same, mysterious shore, 

Where sheMl faint and die by the pearly stream, 

While Summer awakes from her long, long dream; 

Awakes, and in robes of green and gold, 

W'hispers of beauty and wealth untold. 

Found, where her arrows of light shall gleam, 

On meadows fair, by the winding stream; 

Of her waving fields of ripening grain, 

Her sun-kissed grapes, her grassy plain. 

But she, too, faints in the noon-tide hours, 

And her grave is made 'mid scarlet flowers, 



A UTUMN LB A VES. ^5 

Strewn 'mid the grass by Autumn's hand, 

As she lifts her scepter o'er the land; 

Her golden scepter to which men bow, 

As she twines a wreath for Labor's brow. 

Patient Labor had waited long 

For the victor's crown, the victor's song; 

But now, his hopes fruition see 

In golden field and bending tree. 

For all there is the Spring of life, 

The Summer's heat, and anxious strife— 

For Autumn's store of golden grain. 

Mortals need never strive in vain — 

For those who labor and endure, 

The fields are ripe, the harvest sure. 



EXTRACTS FROM LIVING ORACLES. 

<' Glory to God," and " Peace on earth," 
Proclaimed the Savior's hour of birth ; 

" God loved the world !" Ah, love divine, 
Nothing can fathom, naught confine. 
And, '<with the heavenly hosts above," 
We'll join to sing His endless love. 

" Glory to God, who reigns on high, 
Ruler alone of earth and sky." 
The stars that saw the Savior's birth 
Still preach His peace to all the earth— 

" Peace and good will "—this peace may be 
Ours through a vast eternity. 



26 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

"Our earthly house," by slow decay, 
May fade and pass from earth away; 
But builded in the heavenly lands 

" An everlasting mansion " stands, 
Where the pure river's ceaseless flood 

" Makes glad the City of our God." 



MY CHILDHOOD HOME. 

Where the mountains rose in distance, 
Was my childhood's happy home ; 

Where bright waters gently flowing 
Through the dewy meadows roam. 

'Neath the pine trees' dusky shadows, 
Where the darkness soonest fell, 

Oft my evening song I mingled. 
With the moaning whip-poor-will. 

The rose is blooming by the pathway. 

The lilac by the open door; 
The vine is wreathed across the casement 

The sunlight dances on the floor. 

But scattered are the household idols, 
And memory can alone restore 

The scenes I loved, the days so fleeting, 
The friends that I shall see no more. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 



TWO MEETINGS. 

At the altar I saw a fair bride stand, 
With the orange wreath in her hair; 

Her eyes were blue as violet-buds, 
Her face like a lily fair. 

By her side was one she had vowed to love, 
And she smiled as she gave her hand ; 

It was joy to know she should walk with him, 
In the path to the heavenly land. 

At his low damp grave I saw her stand ; 

She was changed, though not by years ; 
The smile she wore at the altar side 

Death had quenched in blinding tears. 



SPEAK LIVING WORDS. 

Speak living words to waiting souls, 
Speak words of hope and cheer; 

Lift up the spirit bowed with care, 
Wipe away the mourner's tear. 

Speak living words! behold thy child, 
Listening with eager mind. 

And every thought your lips may speak, 
Will there a lodgment find. 

Speak living words; a sinner fails 

The path of life to find — 
Point to the way that upward leads; 

Speak words both true and kind. 



i$ A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Speak living words for soon thou'lt Wt 
Pale, silent, and unknown ; 

And living words alone will tell, 
The good that thou hast done. 



REINIEMBER. 



When foes assail, and friends grow cold, 

When clouds are in thy skj; 
When Slander with her slimy folds, 

Goes slowly hissing by, 
Remember, that the darkest night 

Has the most glorious dawn, 
Though tempest clouds may hide the sun. 

It still, undimmed, shines on. 

The rock, that rears its rugged head 

Mid ocean's waters deep. 
Is all unmoved by surging waves 

That circle at its feet. 
The boat that stems the storm at sea. 

When tempests swell and roar, 
Will make the harbor safe at last. 

As waves roll toward the shore. 

The good and true need never fear. 

Though malice aim her dart; 
E'en Envy's arrows, tipped in gall, 

Can never reach the heart. 
Falsehood may lead the mind astray 

But it shall die at length. 
And Truth shall from the ashes rise, 

A Phoenix in its strength. 



AUTUMN LEA VES. 



THE SPARROWS. 



I HEAR on the hawthorn a tangle of tune, 

A low dainty carol, to welcome sweet June ; 

'Tis the song of the sparrows, so earless and gay, 

Praising God with their music through all the bright day. 

They flit through the roses, they sing at the door, 

They gather the crumbs scattered thick on the floor. 

I wonder, if down through the ages of time. 
They still hear the words of the Savior sublime! 
'' Not a sparrow shall fall, save the Father decree," 
He made them and guards them wherever they be. 
Surely this is the reason they gather so near- 
God watches them ever, and why should they fear? 



BABY IS DEAD AND MOTHER IS WEEPING. 

*«0, father, come home, mother is weeping 

And baby is white and still ; 
The fire on the hearth has smouldered away, 

The cottage is gloomy and chill. 
O, father, dear father, the forest is dreary. 

The night wind is swelling afar. 
The face of the moon the storm-clouds are hiding, 

And the light of each glittering star." 

Unheeding the voice of his innocent child. 

And thrusting her rudely away, 
The drunkard passed on where the wine-cup alluring 

Won votaries to lead them astray. 



30 AUTUMN J.EAVES. 

"Baby is dead and mother is weeping," 
Came borne on the breath of the blast; 
Unmoved by her pleadings the wine-cup he drained, 
'Till reeling he went forth at last. 

Staggering and stumbling, he hurried along. 

Then, falling, at length failed to rise. 
While the snow flakes seemed striving to cover his sin, 

From the sight of humanity's eyes. 
Golden-haired Alice, watching and waiting, 

On her bosom quick pillowed his head; 
From his slumber the drunkard awoke in the morning. 

But golden-haired Alice was dead. 

Dead, with a smile on her white, marble face, 

Her death-bed the cold drifting snow — 
And there by the side of his sin-martyred child 

The drunkard recorded a vow: 
Henceforth and forever let drink be accursed; 

I'll ne'er touch the wine-cup again ; 
By the death of my children my wife's bitter tears, 

From this hour I will sever the chain. 



AN OLD OLD STORY. 

The bell is solemnly tolling — 

She is dead, in lier seventieth year. 
It isn't much of a story. 

Though may be you'd like to hear 
Of one who followed the footsteps 

Of the Master, we adore, 
And laid up in heavenly mansions, 

Good deeds a wondrous store. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. Z^ 

They called her Auntie Prayerful; 

She was ever a faithful friend, 
And ever looking heavenward, 

Waiting for life's end. 
Many a tear of compassion 

She shed, with those who wept, 
And many a wayward wanderer, 

From sin and shame she kept. 

<* Married?" No. never married! 

'Tis said, in early youth. 
Judge Elton's son came wooing, 

And she plighted him her truth; 
But the Judge was proud and worldly, 

And issued his decree — 
'Ralph should wed a richer maiden, 

Or be sent away to sea!' 

Alas for pride and anger! 

The father wept in vain, 
When the ship which bore his child away 

Never reached land again. 
Lost at sea! Ah! what to him, 

As the years rolled slowly on, 
Was all his Avealth of gold or lands? 

For them he had lost his son ! 

They say that Margaret fainted. 

Then rose up pale and still. 
Wearing a look of heaven — 

Her dead face wears it still. 
How much she prayed and suffered, 

No one but God can know ; 
Fair as a winter snow-wreath, 

Her sweet face seemed to grow. 



32 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Pure, and true, and faithful. 

That was her record here. 
Doing the Master's bidding. 

And bringing heaven near, 
A martyr's crown of glory, 

Has waited many years. 
For her, who lived for others. 

And smiled through blinding tears. 

**Why do they sound a solemn dirge 
When a Christian's life is done? 
Fitter far were joy-bells, when 
Such victory has been won." 



A FABLE. 



'Cluck-cluck, chick-cluck," said the old gray hen, 
Marching along with her chickens ten. 
And proud was she as a hen could be — 
For each of the ten wore a satin gown. 
And plumes on their heads like a princess' crown, 
And their voices rivaled the birds. 

She was calling the chicks to the meadows fair. 
Where fragrance enwrapped the summer air. 
When, "Stop, Mrs. Hen," said madam, the Wren, 
'The way your chicks dress is a terrible shame, 
And the neighbors all think that you are to blame. 
Though I tell them that never can be. 

And now I do hope you will take my advice: 
J\Iy children wear brown, and are tidy and nice, 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 33 

And, "Dear Mrs. Hen," said madam, the Wren, 
With vt)ur well balanced mind, you canH fail to perceive, 
That the hearts of your friends with sorrow must grieve, 
Gav dress on your children to see! " 

While yet she was talking a faint cry was heard, 
And the white cat ran off with a litile brown bird: 
" That's yours, Madam Wren," said the sober gray hen; 
W^itching other folk's children your own you forget, 
And must weep o'er your folly with pain and regret, 
When sighing and tears are in vain. 

"Your child, though as soberly dressed, as you say, 

By that villain, the Cat, has been stolen away; 

So you see, Madam Wren, ' said the old mother hen, 
"Neither dress, nor condition, our children can shield 

From temptations and snares which the crafty can wield, 

And to guard them our duty must be." 

"And now, my dear madam, I pray you give heed 
To advice that I'll give you in this time of need, 
'Tis this, Madam Wren," clucked the old mother hen, 

" To 7nind our own business^ is the best thing' in life, 
'Twill save our dear children and keep us from strife, 
And shield us from sorrow and pain." 



AS THE TWIG IS BENT THE TREE INCLINES." 

Farmer, arife! the day's at hand. 
Plant the seed and till the land; 
Prune the \ine, 'twill bud and blow, 
And as you ti-ain it, so 'twill grow. 



34 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Yonder bent and gnarled tree 
Begs a helping hand from thee; 
Prune the branches drooping low, 
As jou train them so they'll grow. 

Maiden, see jon beauteous flower, 

Bent and bruised bj the storm-king's power, 

Raise it up from the dust below, 

As you train it so 'twill grow. 

Mother, a blossom far more fair, 
Is given to thy watchful care ; 
Guard well thy treasure here below, 
As you train it so 'twill grow. 



OUR HERO. 



Harry, our pet and darling, 

Was six years old and a day — 
He'd always pretend to be working 

At man's work even in play; 
Sometimes he was Preacher or Doctor, 

Or Lawyer, or " Lord of the quill; '* 
Then tiring of these, was a hunter. 

And kitty a hear^ to kill. 

*' Harry will be an artist," 
He whispered it o'er and o'er 

That day, sitting beside me 
At play, on the kitchen floor. 



A UTUMN LEA VES, ^5 

So, when he called from the door-waj, 

" Hurrj, mamma, and see 
How ril take my kitty's photo," 

I smiled at his winsome glee. 

Down through the clover blossoms, 

Down through the fragrant hay, 
Where the stately maple's shadow 

Asleep in the sunshine lay; 
At length I followed his footsteps. 

Just stopping to pluck a flower, 
And question old robin red-breast, 

Foretelling a coming shower. 

I paused when I reached the orchard, 

Paused in blank dismay, 
For tied to the trunk of a russet, 

Kitty mewed piteously. 
And there, on the stump before him, 

Harry 'd placed his father's gun. 
And its silver hammer and mountings 

Flashed in the summer sun. 

Spell-bound I stood for a moment 

And heard the child i-epeat : 
" Harry 's an artist, kitty " — 

His voice was wondrous sweet — 
" Kitty, hold still a moment! 

Kitty, hold still I say! 
Till I fix this blanket nicely, 

And I'll take you right away." 



*'Wait, Harry! " I cried, "one moment 
Too late, a loud report, 

c 



>> 



36 AUTUMN LEAVES. 

Finished forever the "subject" 
Of Hari-j's innocent sport. 

Poor kitty, he took her " picture," 
Took it in blood that day, 

And it cured him of being an artist, 
Even in childish play. 

We made her a grave in the orchard, 

And kitty was laid to rest; 
Red clover blossomed round her, 

White clover covered her breast. 
Harry grew up to manhood — 

Manhood sturdy and strong — 
Loving the pure and the holy. 

Hating oppression and wrong. 

He was first to respond to tlie war-cry, 

First to put on the blue. 
First to die for his countrj^. 

With a love both tender and true; 
The gun he had used as an artist, 

He carried until he fell ; 
It is all we have of our hero, 

Our hero who sleepeth well. 

They buried him under the roses 

That blush in the summer sun, 
Upon the dark-stained battle-fields. 

Where our victories were won. 
A hero the Avorld will call him, 

And the Nation a tribute pay — 
But to me he is " Little Harry," 

Six yeai*.i old and a day. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 37 



THE MOTHER'S LAMENT AFTER THE Bx\TTLE. 

There was only one killed, but that was mj son, 
My last on earth, in heaven I have four — 

What then shall I live tor, when child I have none? 
Laid in the cold grave, I can see him no more. 

I taught him his duty — I taught him to pray; 

I gave him to God, to honor and right; 
His life, in the beauty of youth's earh^ day. 

Has faded away in the gloom of death's night. 

The sword of his father I placed by his side, 
And I bade him return it as pure and as bright 

As when he received it, in joy and in pride, 

To battle for home, and for God, and for right. 

There was only one killed! how did I live on 
When they told me that one w^as my boy? 

A mother? and childless? 'mid dead hopes, undone, 
Live on! when life has no dreamings of joy? 

War's banners are fui'led, and the cannon is hushed, 
O'er crimson-stained fields Peace folds her wings, 

No longer of armies with victory flushed, 
But a funeral song I must sins'. 



PASSING AWAY. 

Like a dream our life is passing, 

Like a dream that is almost through; 

Like a flower- enblossomed landscape 
That the dark night hides from view. 



38 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Like thy waves, O, winding river, 
Murmuring softly, as thej glide, 

Love's sweet song to tlie wliite lily, 
Sleeping on thy silvery tide. 

Like a ship upon the ocean. 

With its white sails all unfurled, 

We are nearing, ever nearing, 
The shore ot the unseen world. 

Like a cloud at hush of evening. 
Slowly fading with the day, 

We near the gate where Death is watching, 
In the evening cold and gray. 

Like the sound of evening vespers, 
Like the .hymn at close of day. 

Like the dew from morning flowers. 
So from earth we pass away. 



NOT THERE. 



My home was very beautiful. 

Beneath the shadowy trees. 
Where leaves were gently lifted 

By every passing breeze. 
But a cold, dark presence entered 

The home that was so fair. 
And stern Death coldly whispered, 

*'Thy mother is not there." 



Autumn LEAVES. 39 

Upon the swaying branches 

The robin built its nest, 
And hushed, with low and tender notes, 

Its young to peaceful rest. 
My mother's song, as sweet and clear, 

Oft filled the evening air. 
The birds still sing around my home, 

But my mother is not there. 

The lilies bloom beside the door, 

And the climbing vines still cling 
To the gray and time-worn lattice, 

Rich with the buds of spring; 
My mother trimmed those creeping vines. 

Watching each bud with care. 
They bloom in wild luxuriance still. 

But my niother is not there. 



MAY. 

May magically weaves a bright curtain of green, 

With flower-buds and blossoms imprisoned between: 

The blush of the roses steals over her face. 

And she bends like the lily in beauty and grace ; 

Her violet-ejxs shine truthful and clear, 

And the breath of her song is the spirit of prayer. 



40 A UTUMN LEA VES. 



MY CASTLE IN THE AIR. 

In days long past, when life wa;^ new, 
And Hope her mantle o'er me threw, 
I built a castle, grand and fair, 
A wondrous castle in the air. 

There were smooth green lawns and woody dell, 
And fountains where bright waters fell. 
And flowers whose rich perfume nrose. 
Like incense, at the twilight's close. 

The waves of ocean washed the strand, 
Pale moonbeams fell on silvery sand, 
The cooing dove sought the shady bowers, 
And wild bees hummed in the heart's flowers. 



And glistened fair in the lambent light. 
The windows were shaded with fairest lace. 
And mirrors reflected no care-worn face. 

The walls were hung with pictures rare. 
And grace and beauty alone were there — 
Music sent forth its soothing power, 
And gladness filled each passing hour. 

Troops of children, fair and gay. 
Made sweet the hours of cloudless day, 
Watching the blue-bird build her nest. 
Or the tiny wren with speckled vest; 

Chasing the butterflies, gold and green. 
Brilliant and clear as rainbow-sheen. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 4 1 

Singing anon, such a wondrous strain, 

That the mocking-bird echoed it back again. 

In such a castle we all inay dwell, 

If this lesson we practice well : 

" Of the morrozv to borroiv no anxious care! " 

Make the present joy your castle in air. 



BELIEVEST THOU ? 

Believest thou? Lord I believe 

That at the temple's gate 
Thou' It surely meet the trusting souls. 

Who on thy service wait. 

Believest thou? Lord I believe 

In emblematic grave 
Thou' It meet the soul that trusts in Thee, 

To guard and bless and save. 

Believest thou? Lord I believe 

That when we humbly pray 
Thou 'It keep us safely in thy care. 

Along life's thorny way. 

Believest thou? Lord I believe 

When darkness draweth nigh 
Thou'lt hold us in thy loving arms, 

'Till storms and clouds pass by. 

Believest thou? Lord I believe 

That we must all become 
As little children, if we hope 

To reach the heavenly home. 



42 A UTUMN LEA VES, 



WINTER. 

The brook bv the stern old King's device, 
Has been set in jeweled band of ice, 
In garments of white the brambles stand 
Like gem-decked bride from fairy land. 

Ah! the winter's snow and the winter's cold, 
Will give back blessings a thousand fold; 
So, in manj a heart, all hidden, lies 
A thought that anon will reach the skies. 

Who wealth of knowledge w^ould make his goal, 
Who would write his name on the loftv scroll 
Unfolded bj Truth, as she leads the way 
Where the clouds of mist'rj are rolled awaj. 

Must write on his banner: Upward still, 
Though winds blow fair or winds blow ill! 
And upward and onward day by day. 
With resolute will must take his way 

With dauntless purpose and will of steel. 
And heart that the wrongs of the world can feel, 
Like the Jews who fled from Egypt's night, 
Must be led by the cloud and pillar of light. 

All labor is gladness, all study ]oy, 

And the gold of thought is without alloy, 

And happy the soul that can wander long 

In the realms of thought and the realms of song. 

Life is a journey, and storms abound, 
But after the tempest sweet peace is found ; 
Life is a journej^, and clouds must rise. 
But our rest will be sweet in Paradise. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. AZ 

THE YEAR'S FAREWELL. 

Autumn has lost her sunny smile, 

Her brow is wet with tears, 
Her sandaled feet follow the path. 

Of the departed years. 
Though robed right royally she came 

In purple and in gold, 
Her faded garments, old and brown, 

Are torn in every fold. 

With beautiful, gift-laden hands. 
She knocked at Nature's door, 

Scattering her treasures far and wide- 
She's dying old and poor. 

The wild wind sweeps her vacant halls. 
Her purple grapes are pressed, 

Her harvest-moon, in splendor mild, 
Has faded in the west. 

And while she shuts Time's iron gate, 

With fingers cold and chill, 
She sees, through tears, King Winter set 

His watch-fires on the hill. 
Disrobed and pale she falls asleep. 

Folded to Earth's cold breast. 
The seal of silence on her lips, 

Eternal is her rest. 



For some the Spring of life is past, 
For some Summer is o'er— 

While others gathering harvest-sheaves, 
Find winter at the door. 



4V 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 

But Winter's cold, white mystery 

Will break in loving tears, 
When we have climbed where angels stand, 

Above life's storm}^ j-ears. 

And if our ladder's golden rormds 

Are prayers and generous deeds, 
If never faltering we have tried 

To help the world's great needs: 
If, clambering up the mountain side, 

Our guide the Morning Star — 
We've battled in Truth's sacred i-anks 

We'll find the " Gates ajar." 

Though with our gleanings tares are found, 

Or thorns, or withered lea\es, 
God will accept our toil-won grain. 

From out the tear stained sheaves: 
And though chill fingers spread tlie pall, 

If love and faith unite, 
A harvest-home our coming waits. 

Upon the plains of light. 



THE CHRISTIAN'S WORK. 

Oh, is it not a holy task 
To cheer a saddened heart. 

When loving word, or look, or smile. 
May cause joy-buds to start? 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 45 

Oh, is it not a blessed thing 

To clasp the trembling hand. 
And whisper of the higher strength, 

Which comes at Faith's command? 

'Tis often but a little thing, 

The cooling draught to give, 
But it may yield some fainting heart 

The strength to love and live. 

A simple song, a tender tone. 

Have oft such power to cheer. 
That wearj feet will heavenward climb, 

That else had stumbled here. 

We may not pluck the orange blooms 

To deck the happy bride, 
But we can strew our rose-buds fair 

O'er the little child that died. 

Though we may never gather pearls 

Where ocean's treasures glow, 
Still we can guide the little ones 

"Where living waters flow." 

It may be but a little thing 

To give " only a tear " — 
Or in our prayers to speak a name 

That angel watchers hear. 

What if our mite be small indeed. 

Our lamp give little light, 
Some sadder soul we still may bless. 

And cheer throusrh storm and nisrht. 



46 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

We can not guide the freighted ship 
Amid the breakers white, 

But we can build the beacon fires 
Upon some rockj height. 

Too weak to stand amid the strong 
When the trumpet calls to war, 

We still can praj for victory, 
And the reign of Bethlehem's Star. 

And, reaching forth the hand of help 
To the lowly and the poor, 

Can guide the feet that else would stray 
Where Sin keeps open door. 

As pilgrims to the shrine of Truth, 
We bring our gifts of love. 

And thus life's lessons, sad and dark, 
Will prove like Noah's dove. 

The messenger to guide our ark 
To mountain heights of rest. 

Where, far above the floods of woe, 
Stands our Ararat the blest. 



AN EDITOR'S WASTE-BASKET. 

A NICE little basket sits under the table — 
A grave for bright hopes and dark fears — 

As deep as the ocean, as cold as its bosom, 
Hiding heart-pangs and longings and tears. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 47 

Sense that is shipwrecked and words that are wasted, 

In its cavernous darkness and gloom, 
Find silence forever, without resurrection, 

In the editor's basket — their tomb. 

Alas, I remember that terrible basket! 

Its depths are unfathomed, unknown. 
There fancies lie fading, like leaves in December, 

Budding life-dreams forever unblown ; 
An editor's welcome! ah, keep me and save me 

From seeing his frown or his sneer; 
'Tis enough that my brain-child, my loved, and my lost one, 

Was buried unblest by a tear. 



THE CHOICE. 



"Which shall it be, dear mother? 

To which home shall I go? 
The grand old castle beside the sea. 

Or the little brown cot below? " 

"Which shall it be, dear mother? 

A plain white muslin gown. 
Or the richest and rarest of lace and silk 

To be found in Insleytown? " 

" Which shall it be, dear mother? 

A tiny plain gold ring. 
Or wealth of gems and diamonds rare. 

That would ransom a captive king? '' 



48 AUTUMN LEAVES. 

*' My child, your heart must answer 
The question jour lips have asked, 

Lest sowing in pride you sorrow, 
When the harvest is overpast. 

Choose with jour heart, mj darling; 

Let pride be swept away; 
Flowers are fairer than jewels, 

Gather them while jou maj. 

Often glittering diamonds 
Conceal but an aching brow. 

And the chill heart's bitter throbbings, 
Bear record to falsehood's vow. 

Truth is the brightest jewel 
That womanhood can wear. 

Never a silken robe can cure 
A heart grown sick with care. 

This world is not all sunshine, 
There's manj a stormj daj. 

And love is the sweetest shelter. 
When clouds obscure the waj. 

So choose from your heart, my daughter, 
Remember, this life of ours 

Must have some thorns and briers 
Among its fairest flowers. 

But thorns, and tears, and darkness, 
Matter not, so love is true ; 

While jou climb, keep step together. 
With the higher life in view, 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 49 



SONG OF SPRING. 

Talk not to me of Winter's joys, 

Away with his icy breath ; 
Binding the streams in crystal chains, 

Chilling the flowers in death! 

Give me the gentle breeze that blows 

From sunny southern isles, 
Kissing the maple, waking the rose. 

Decking the earth in smiles. 

Child of the Sim ! beauteous spring! 

I greet thee once again ! 
For I hear the ring-dove's cooing notes. 

The blue-bird's sweet refrain. 



"THE MASTER CALLETH FOR THEE." 

Sinners, straying far from home, 
Listen, and no longer roam ; 
Cease all sinning, cease all grieving, 
Jesus calls, O, come believing! 

Mourner, sad and broken hearted, 
From thy loved ones art thou parted? 
List, a voice to thee is crying: 
" ' Look aloft! ' and cease all sighing." 

Have you faith? then never falter. 
Lay your heart upon God's alter; 
For, however weary weeping, 
Jesus holds thee in His keeping. 



50 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

See! the heavy cross is glorious, 
Since the bleeding Christ, victorious, 
Conquered doubt, and sin, and sorrow, 
Lifting clouds from Death's to-morrow. 



UNANSWERED PRAYERS. 

Does your heart grow sad, as the sunlight 
Gilds the brow of new-born day — 

So sad o'er days you've wasted, 
That you scarcely dare to pray? 

And the prayers the Father answered. 

And those he refused to hear? 
Which proved his love-most clearly? 

Which brought His presence near? 

Were you always wise in your asking? 

Does no curse of a granted prayer 
Fall on your breast like a shadow 

To darken the sunlight there? 

And the prayers that were left unanswered, 
Do you see where your wishes led? 

Through valleys of doubt and darkness — 
Such wild-crags overhead"? 

'Tis well, if in prayers unanswered 
We can see tlie Father's love — 

Or feel that each unasked blessing 
Descends from God above. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 5^ 

That in mercy He bids our angel 

Bear the words of our prayers away 
To the caves, where darlc oblivion, 

Holds ever a silent sway. 

Ah, vje can not see the wisdom 

That sends us tears and pain, 
Instead of the earthly blessings. 

Our prayers so boldly claim. 

Shall we cease to pray, since, darkly, 

We grope 'mid tangled ways? 
A promise is only given 

To the soul that humbly prays. 

One prayer is sure o,f answer: 

" Thy will, O Lord, be done ! " 
But this prayer is never whispered 

'Till victory has been won. 



THE BEAUTIFUL GATE. 

You may enter in : 
O, why thus wait? 
Standing beside the beautiful gate, 
Time passes fast and the hour is late. 

You may enter in: 
The daylight's past. 

The night comes on in storm and blast; 
Dark clouds are hurrying swiftly past. 



52 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

You may enter in: 
You need not fear! 

The way you have come may be dark and drear, 
The darkness can never enter here! 

You may enter in: 
O, why thus doubt? 
God will never keep his children out, 
On the fierce wild waves to be tossed about. 

You may enter in : 
There is no care, 

Sorrow, or sin, in that land so fair; 
Love and peace dwell only there I 

You may enter in: 
O, who can tell 

What joy with the Father thus to dwell; 
The " Father who doeth all thin^rs well.'* 



MY VISION. 



I SAW an angel floating earthward, 

In her robes of dazzling light; 
Shall I tell the glorious visions 

She unfolded to my sight? 

Heaven's gates were like transparent crystal, 
And songs too sweet for mortal ear 

Echoed through the mists of midnight. 
Echoed through each rolling sphere I 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 53 

"Our God is just" — the glorious anthem 

Floated earthward from the sky ; 
"Then why," I whispered, " all earth's sorrow, 

Angel of Mercj, tell me why? " 

Mercy, turning, gazed upon me. 

Rapture and Faith were in her eye. 
Though mortals weep, in darkness groping, 

Heaven's joys await them by-and-by." 

While Mercy spoke, one stood beside me, 

A child of earth to heaven dear, 
" 'Tis well," he said, " the Father loves us, 

For lo. He sends His angels here! " 

" O, listen, Mercy, we are waiting 
To hear the Master's welcome, " come! " 

Thorns and darkness hedge our pathway, 
Above are flowers, light and home." 

Then, Mercy answered, "you are strangers. 

Wandering now in stranger lands, 
But where the Savior waits to greet you, 

Love binds all hearts with golden bands. 

"Stranger and friendless," are not spoken 
Of those who've crossed the darksome tide, 

The chains of sin and pain are broken, 
Before yovi reach the further side. 

There, pure and undefiled, you'll wander. 

Temptation free along the shore ; 
Of that bright river from whose fountain 

Your thirst is quenched forever more. 



54 AUTUMN LEAVES. 



PRAISE. 

Praise God, though darkest clouds 

Around thy pathway hover, 
A siher lining bright and fair, 

You may at last discover. 

What though the stars are hid from view? 

They shine as bright as ever; 
God's love, though we may fear and doubt, 

In sorrow fails us never. 

No earthly love, or earthly hope, 
Can light Death's lonely hour; 

Praise God who o'er the gloomy grave 
Hath everlasting power. 



OVER THE RIVER. 

Over the river: 
Dear friends are there, 
Dwellers in Eden-land so fair, 
Free from sorrow, pain, and care; 
Do they ever think of the earth-worn band, 
Striving to gain the beautiful land, 
While their feet sink deep in the mire and sand, 
Down by the river? 
Over the river: 
While they are walking the streets of gold 
Do they think of the wanderers from the fold, 
Whose faith is weak, whose hearts are cold? 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 55 

Do thej know how long we must watch and wait 
Ere the bridegroom opens the pearly gate? 
And wonder why he comes so late! 
Over the river. 

Death's dark River, 
Its waters deep, 
Will bear me safe to my dreamless sleep, 
For angel watchers a vigil keep. 
Then O, my soul, why should I fear, 
Though the surging waves I can almost hear, 
When Bethlehem's Star is shining clear, 
Over the river? 

Bej^ond the River, 
There's no dark night! 
When, O, soul, wilt thou take thy flight. 
To dwell in the home of life and light, 

Over the river? 



DESTINY. 



Through all the course of time. 

Weariness, want and woe. 
Trudging beside the carriage of wealth, 

Over the broad earth go. 

While slowly, and sadly, side by side. 

Idleness, sorrow and sin 
Walk by the door of plenty and pride — 

By the door, but enter not in. 



56 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Day by day, since time began, 

Passion severs the chain, 
Whose golden links bind loving hearts, 

And broken they ever remain. 

Through all the course of time, 
Friends are called to sever, 

Some will meet ere the morn is o'er, 
Some part, and part forever. 

Ever, as time goes on. 

New souls are born to earth, 

Souls that must enter the valley of death, 
To reach the heavenly birth. 



"AT SPES NON FRACTA." 

The snow-flakes fell from a cloud-veiled sky. 
And Winter, in ermined robes, passed by; 
His steed was the wind, with icy breath, 
His chariot wheels were the wheels of death. 
Crushing out life and beauty. 

The flowers of the forest drooped and died. 
Lilies and violets, side by side. 
Slept underneath the snow-covered ground. 
And the rivulet ceased its murmuring soun 1, 
Its babblings of Nature's duty. 

The wind-tossed trees with their barren limbs, 
Seem beating time to funeral hymns, 



A UTUMN LEA VES. S7 

And the white earth looks, in moonlight pale, 
Like maiden, wrapped in her bridal veil, 
Dead, at the marriage altar. 

Death unto life; and life unto death; 
Rest of the grave, after fleeting breath; 
Life unto death; and death unto life; 
The rest of Heaven, after anxious strife — 
Then, mortal, wherefore falter? 

Or wherefore weep for thv treasure-trove. 
Lost in the depths of boundless love. 
Buried, mayhap, on the battle plain, 
Unknown — mid thousands of heroes slain — 
His place of dreamless sleeping. 

Unknown to thee! but the Father's eye 
Marketh the place where His children lie; 
As Spring but follows the Winter's strife, 
The Christian's death brings a purer life, 
God's morn, after night's weeping. 



LABOR WHILE YOU MAY. 

Short the time for labor, do not idly wait 
Outside the vineyard, standing at the gate; 
List, the Master calls you, labor while you may, 
Ere the evening shadows gather round your way. 

Short the time for labor, let no dai-ksome shade, 

From the love of pleasure, on the soul be made ; 

Leave the shadowed woodland, where dark phantoms hide, 

Haste thee to the flower-land on the other side. 



58 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Short the time for labor; from the sheltering baj 
On the tidal-wave, jour ship will sail away; 
Trim the sails — if need be, take the guiding helm, 
Shun the rocky head-land, ere cold waves overwhelm. 

Short the time for labor; in the self-same way, 
Purposes are moulded, as pjiters mould their clay; 
Watch the wheel, slow turning, guiding it at will, 
Lest the clay be wasted, tl e dish be fashioned ill. 

Short the time for labor; see, across the plain 
Where the seed was planted, bends the ripened grain; 
Hear the earnest workers sing amid the sheaves : 
Would j)'(?.v bear the Master only withered leaves? 

Short the time for labor; summer fades and dies, 
Mists and snows of winter drift adown the skies; 
Wherefore, dost thou linger 'till the midnight bell. 
With slow solemn tolling, life's last hour shall tell? 

Short the time for labor; endless years for rest; 
See, the sun is sinking in the cloud-lined west; 
Don Truth'^s shining armor, work in faith and love, 
Only prayer and labor can win the home above. 



« ORA ET LABORA." ' 

Labor, Christian ! earth is groaning 
With sin, and want, and cruel pain. 

While many souls, in midnight darkness, 
Hug to their hearts Doubt's bitter chain. 



A UTUMN LEA VES, 59 



Labor! hearts led bj temptation 

Walk swift along the downward way; 

Gather up the " Lambs of Jesus," 
Lest in the wilderness thev stray. 

Christian, pray! Let thy petition 

Like sweet incense reach the throne, 

While the waiting, listening angels, 
Bending low, shall catch the tone. 

*' Labor and pray! " this is the mission- 
The birth-right we all may share, 

And thus become of life eternal, 

With Christ, an equal heavenly heir. 



THE LITTLE ONE'S PRAYER. 

'TwAS only a wayside cottage, 

But the firelight, cheery and red, 
Fell soft on the white-robed figure 

Of a child, by the trundle-bed: 
** God bress my mamma and papa! " 

Then she paused in her evening prayer, 
And added, with faith undoubting, 

" And kitty aseejb in the chair." 

The night- winds were wildly raging, 
Piling high the pillars of snow, 

Though wandering in storm and darkness, 
In my heart was a summer glow. 



6o AUTUMN LEAVES. 

The faith of the child had cheered me, 
Doubt folded his ebon-hued wing 

As I cried, " O, loving Savior, 
A child, to Thy cross I cling." 

Their march, the stars have been keeping 

Long years, since that lone winter night, 
But memory still holds a picture 

Of the ruddy, shimmering light 
Sent out from the burning faggot, 

And the little one's evening prayer; 
" God bress my mamma and papa, 

And kitty aseep in the chair." 

Tossed mid the roar of the breakers, 

Wind-driven by lempest-clouds wild, 
1 hear not the storm-wraith Availing, 

For, soft steals the voice of a child 
Adown life's mj^stical pathway ; 

Once again that prayer I can hear, 
And doubts from my heart are banished, 

And the star of my faith shines clear. 



THANKSGIVING. 

O, God, our Father! we would bring 
The incense of our praise. 

For mercies past, mercies to come^ 
O, keep us in Thy ways! 

Teach us to do Thy holy will. 
And bear our humble part. 
In lifting up some fallen one, 
Soothing some broken heart. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 6l 

Jesus, thy life, we fain would make 

A pattern for our own ; 
Thanksgiving, freely do we bring, 

That Thou the way hast shown. 

Our hands in pity, care, and love 

Extend at Thy command, 
To help the sad and erring ones, 

Wandering on every hand. 

We thank Thee for Thy mercies, God, 

Thy long-enduring love ; 
We thank Thee for the Book of books, 

The guide to heaven above. 

Father, accept this humble song, 

Which from our lips ascends, 
And grant that we may enter where 

Thanksgiving never ends. 



DESOLATION. 



Autumn is dying, coldly drear 
The wailing winds arc sweeping 

Adown the glen, across the fen — 
The fading flowers are weeping. 

Autumn is dying, fallen leaves 
In forest paths are drifting; 

The year is old, the trees, a-cold. 
Bare arms to heaven are lifting. 



63 AUTUMN LEAVES, 

Autumn is dying; forest aisles 
No more with joj are ringing; 

In southern bowers, mid fadeless flowers 
The songsters, sweet, are singing. 

Autumn is dying; chill and cold, 
O'er her face shadows are stealing; 

In midnight drear, in solemn prayer 
By her couch, the Old Year's kneeling. 

Autumn is dying; her dear face 
In the blight of death is fading; 

Love's saddest strain, sorrows refrain, 
All Nature seems pervading. 

Autumn is dying; loving hands 
Stretch forth in mute caressings. 

And tears are shed, and her dying bed 
Is consecrate with blessings. 



WANDERING. 



I'd wandered afar from the Shepherd'sfold- 
The way was thorny, and dark, and cold ; 
My garments faded, and rent, and worn, 
My feet were bleeding and brier-torn ; 
So long, in the forest, I'd been astray. 
That I no longer could trace the way, 
Sadly weeping and sore afraid, 
In the perilous journey I paused dismayed. 

Darkly had fallen the stormy night — 
Hidden were all the stars from sight; 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 63 

Wedding garments had I none, 
My lamp was out, my oil was gone, 
Weary, fainting and travel-soiled, 
Over the barren moor I toiled; 
Weeping, I came to the lonelj"- cross 
And laid in its shadow my pain and loss. 

Slowly faded the darksome night, 

The " Star of morn " made the pathway light, 

And, humbly, I lifted my burdens once more, 

And climbed the mountain and crossed the moor, 

And sought again the shelter and care 

Of the loving Shepherd, Who waited there 

At the door of the fold ; and peace and rest 

I found foj aye, on his loving breast. 



ONLY A STEP. 

Only a step, said a fair young child, 
As she paused a moment, looked up, and smiled; 
The way had seemed long to her weary feet, 
As slowly she traversed the dreary street. 

Only a step; the words were a sigh — 
And the student raised his thoughtful eye; 
The road was rough, thorns pierced his feet, 
But the lieights of fame his vision greet. 

Only a step; my hairs are gray — 
I have come a long and toilsome way; 
Truth is my leader, Faith \ny guide. 
With them I can safely cross Death's tide. 



64 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Only a step; but I have no fears — 

The grave may be dark, and wet with tears — 

There's a Star in the East, whose beams light the West, 

And beyond is the city of endless rest. 



SHALL WE KNOW EACH OTHER IN HEAVEN ? 

Shall we know each other in heaven, 
When all pain and toil are o'er? 

Shall we know the friends we have loved, 
The friends that have gone before^ 
To that " shining shore? " 

Shall we know each other above, 

When the grave shall give up its prey — 

When the Savior shall lead his " lambs " 

Through the silent, shadowy way, 

To a land of nightless day? 

Shall we know each other in heaven? 

Ah, who would care to go, 
If those we've cherished here 

We were never more to know — 
The dear friends we love sol 

Shall we know each other above? 

Ah, better an endless sleep. 
Than to lose all thought of the past 

In Eternity's great deep; 

What could we do but weep? 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 65 

We shall know each other in heaven — 

No dear ones there to miss! 
When we reach our Father's house, 

There be no parting kiss, 
In that world of bliss. 



ASLEEP AT HIS POST. 

Buried in dreams of home and friends, 

Joj and hope with his vision blends, 

Forgotten his toil, unheeded the blast. 

To him the sleep-angel gives back the past; 

Forgotten the foe encamped on the plain. 

In dream-land he wanders with loved ones again; 

But' the roar of the cannon sounds on his ear, 

And he starts up appalled with swift-rushing fear; 

Alas! 'tis too late, for that terrible host 

Found the sentinel-soldier asleep at his post. 

And there are watchmen on Zion's tower 

Unheeding the strife of the present hour, 

With folded hands and careless eye, 

They give no warning to passers-by; 

No watchword they give as they pass along, 

To the hosts led captive by pleasure's song. 

Till roused from their slumbers they find with dismay, 

Their foes closing roimd with the closing day, 

And unquelled passions, a terrible host. 

Take captive the watchman asleep at his post. 

We are watchmen all, by the gate of Death; 
Life is passing away as passes a breath. 



66 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

We must fight fierce battles with selfish pride, 
As we march down the sands by the river side; 
Let the watchword be duty, we'll close not our eyes, 
Lest the army of sin take our heart by surprise: 
But the fiercer the battle the brighter the crown 
We shall wear, when our earthly sun goes down, 
And a glorious welcome shall greet the host 
Of watchmen who ne'er fell asleep at their post. 



Lonely, lonely is my pathway, 
Weary have my footsteps grown, 

Reaping only pain and sorrow. 
Sad and fainting far from home! 

Father! Father! hear my wailing. 
Guard and strengthen me I pray! 

Teach me, guide me, lest I wander 
Blindly, weakly, from Thy way! 

Guide me, guide me o'er Death's river 
When I reach its darksome tide! 

Boldly, safely I may venture, 
With the Savior for my guide. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 67 



FLOWERS OF OLDEN TIME. 

The modest blue violet, 

Kissed bj the soft dew, 
Dwells content, since God wills it, 

In wild hedge-rows from view. 
And the sweet child of nature, 

Fair aDysum pale, 
Half hides her shy beauty, 

In her white bridal veil. 

The gay silken poppies 

Leave their dreams half untold, 
- To their little French sisters, 

The bright marigold, 
To watch the nasturtion, 

That flaunts overhead, 
Forgetting the brown earth 

Was ever her bed. 

Wake-robins and catch-fly. 

Country cousins, we think 
Of the fragrant carnation. 

Sweet-william and pink. 
The dahlias so stately 

In velvet and gold. 
Beside the proud fox-glove 

Their glories unfold. 

Red roses for youth. 

When the spirits are gay; 

Purple pansies for age, 

When the hair has grown gray; 



68 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Roses and smiling 
Are seemly together; 

Pansies are prayerful 
\.n gloomiest weather. 

The white lily weeps 

At the closing of day; 
Does she mourn for the tempted 

Ones, going astray? 
The daisy looks up 

When the still stars are shining; 
And the moss, lowly creeping, 

Is ne'er heard repining. 

Forget-me-nots whisper 

Of dear ones departed, 
Of 07ie we once loved, 

Who died, broken-hearted. 
The bright morning-glory, 

That lives but an hour, 
Teaches how fleeting 

Are grandeur and power. 

Yet sweeter, and dearer, 

And fairer than all, 
Is the pale, pink sweet-brier, 

Growing close to the wall. 
In the garden of childhood. 

Where narcissus, white. 
Made the shadowy nook 

A fair dream of delight. 

But that home is o'ei'shadowed 
By Death and the Tomb, 

And o'er the old garden, 
Broods the spirit of gloom. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 69 

For 0)ily tn heaven^ 

Aye Jlotvers blooming ever. 
And only in heaveji 

Friends love on forever-. 



THE CRY OF A LOST SOUL ! 

"Give me liberty!" the drunkard cries; 

*' See you not this cursed chain ? 
It binds my soul to endless death; 

It burns into my brain." 

The red, red wine, see how it foams, 

Is there no rest for me? 
Unloose these chains! unbind these bands! 

And set my spirit free. 

O, give me liberty! it falls from lips 

All pale with coming death — 
A soul's last cxy^ with the heart's last beat, 

And ends with the fleeting breath. 



AFTER DEATH. 

I'll lay white flowers upon his breast; 
The Lord has given peace and rest; 
His saint-like face was fair to see, 
Even after Death's Gethsemane. 



70 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Ah ! did he see a vision fair, 
Of angels hovering in the air? 
And did he hear the anthem free, 
*'0, Death! wliere is thy victory? " 

That his rapt face in shimbers deep 
Should smiling lie, in dreamless sleep; 
As if the opening gates of heaven, 
A glory to his face had given? 

For him all toil and pain is done. 
He bore the cross — the victory won ; 
He fought — then at the battle's close 
He found ineffable repose. 

His glorious crown of silver hair! 
His face, like marble pure and fair; 
His folded hands in holy calm 
Are worthy of the Martyr's palm. 

I 11 lay white flowers upon his breast, 
Emblem of his peaceful rest; 
Never more for him shall be 
The pain of Death's Gethsemane. 



THE PAST. 



Let the dead past lie under the daisies, 

Begin life's battles anew; 
Have the waters of pain baptized thee? 

In the future prove trusty and true. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 7 i 

Tears can not wash avvaj sinning, 

Deeds of atonement are just; 
The talent that's hid in a napkin, 

Will only be gathering rust. 

Let thy life have another beginning, 

Thy service a higher aim; 
Truth, and honest endeavor. 

Sanctify sorrow and pain. 

Moments thoughtlessly wasted 

Are ever mementoes of grief; 
If we scatter no seed in the spring-time, 

Summer gives no blossom or leaf. 

Let the dead past be ever thy lesson, 

Every day, as it goes, is a loan ; 
The deeds of to-day are your treasures. 

Time present is only your own. 

Yesterday's dead, and to-morrow. 

For you its sun never may rise ; 
You have only to-day for life's roses, 

Their bloom in the even-tide dies. 

The past is safe in God's keeping; 

To-day he has given in trust; 
To-morrow may bring us life's ending-— 

Mortality— dust shall be dust! 

Who shall set bounds to the future? 

The past thy lesson must be; 
Strength ever comes with the doing, 

Pruning saves many a tree. 



7 3 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Remember, the spirit's immortal, 
For it there's weal or there's woe; 

Let thy soul-strivings ever be upward, 
For jou ever must reap, as jou sow. 



THE UNKNOWN. 

If I could see God's will in all the sorrows 

That rise, like specters, in mv darkened path; 
If I could feel that all life's untold anguish 

Was sent in love, untinged with heaven's wrath, 
In silence I would bow and hush complainings, 

And with an eye of faith no longer clouded, 
Cling to the mighty Hand that leads me onward 

Beyond these valleys, low, and mist enshrouded. 

If I, while sailing througli lite's stormy breakers. 

Tossed to and fro upon an ever treacherous sea. 
Could hear the voice that hushed the angry surges, 

And whispered peace to wind-wracked Galilee, 
I'd clasp His hand and <\'alk upon the waters 

With feet faith-sandaled where my Lord might go — 
Though walled on every side by cold and angry billows. 

Whose moan whispered of death in the dark deptlis below. 

If I could know that when this lonely earth-lite. 

With its wild phantasy of dreams, had passed fore\ermore, 

I'd find the one dear face the green sod co\ ers, 
Waiting to greet me, safe upon the other shore; 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 73 

I'd lift the Cross with smiles — no longer weary — 
Though bending low to earth beneath the load 

I'd raise mj voice in notes of fullest rapture, 
Though every foot-print marked the way in blood. 



AN EDITOR'S MUSING. 

AjST editor sat in his old worn chair, 
A prey to every vexing care 

That makes up an editor's life. 
He pondered over mysterious things, 
Railroad riots and whisky rings, 
Official bribes and party stings, 

Unending political strife. 

His "leaders " spoke of life's strange maze — 
The news, the laws, and fashion's ways; 

Politics, poetry, bread. 
There were half-remembered dreams of youth, 
And half-forgotten gleams of truth. 
And funny jokes, and words of ruth, 

And '' how shall the tramp be fed? " 

Of the golden chord that ought to bind 
All men as brothers, and make them kind, 

Now rusted \ij doubt and fear. 
And he cried, " Why must the editor set- 
His visions of life's Utopia, 
His schemes of blessing humanity 

All melt away into air.? " 



74 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Then he thought of the wood's path, green and cool', 
The mother's kiss as he started for school, 

To the school-house under the liill, 
Where sturdy hoys, to manhood grew, 
Taught to be honest, brave and true, 
Keeping the golden rule in view — 

Joyous these memories still I 

He thought of the farm house, a sacred fold, 
Where loved ones gathered in days of old, 

Half covered by clambering vines; 
Where ripening fields and orchards red 
Fulfilled God's promise of righteous bread; 
Where rose and lily their fragrance shed 

Beneath the whispering pines. 

Four stalwart sons were the farmer's pride. 
In youth their paths lay side by side, 

In the farm house under the pines. 
How dear the memory now to him 
Of the patriarch's prayer, the evening hymn, 
Which his mother sang in the twilight dim, 

As sweet as vesper chimes. 

John is a farmer, <* wealthy and wise,'* 

He, whistling, follows the plow; 
No cloud on his face, no cloud in his skies, 

His happiness all must allow. 

And my brother, the judge, has houses and lands, 

Of eloquent pleadings, the fee; 
And Dick went to Congress, I think he forgets 

He owes some of his glory to me. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 75 

There's Elijah, the preacher, he's earning his *' bread,*' 
And though scorners may cavil and sneer, 

He pleads for the truth, the truth of the Lord, 
With all who are willing to hear; 

He counsels the living, buries the dead. 
Walks humblj in love, without fear. 

And the doctor finds glorj on every hand. 

Right noble, and tender, and kind 
He ministers well to the poor and the old, * 

Better man you never could find. 

An "editor," I, and my home's poor and bare, 

My children are puny and frail; 
I wonder who'll think of my hard-working wife, 

If my hand and my brain should fail? 
Who'll ever remember my toilsome life, 

After my ink is pale.^* 

Ah, surely, there's One who sees all my good, 
I think that He knows I have done what I could; 
And I think that the seed which I long have been sowing. 
In the sunshine of heaven will forever keep growing. 



THE NEXT TO DIE. 

Pale death stood by the sexton's side, 
Watching the grave grow long and wide, 

Wide and long, and dark and deep — 
Fitting bed for a dreamless sleep. 



76 AUTUMN LEAVES, 

Was it a phantom flitting by, 

That wliispered, " wlio'll be next to die? ** 

Pale the sexton turned, and cold — 

And gazed at the growing heap of mould. 

Many a grave his hands had made, 

And he slowly paused, with uplifted spade, 

^ And he thought, <' should I be next to die, . 

Who'll make the bed where I must lie? " 

Ah, what does it matter, when one is dead. 
Who shall hollow the earth-cold bed? 

An icy face, a form of snow. 
We call it death — yet do Ave know 

Aught of the mystery? We can not see 
The spirit form. The world to be. 

Like an unknown shore, in darksome night 
Seems far away, to our human sight; 

And the deep grave hides the holy Star, 
Whose light streams out from " gates ajar.'* 

Alas, how few, with trusting hand, 
Are led by faith to the restful land! 

Looking into the grave, we can find 
Naught but darkness — our eyes are blind. 

Looking up, we may see the light. 

That lifts the veil from Death's dark night. 

Out of the dust all flowers must bloom ; 
The path to heaven is through the tomb. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 77 

Christ is kind. Will he let us sleep 
For aye, in the silence, dark and deep? 

Out of our tears our faith must grow, 
Till smiling, we into the shadow go, 

Led by the Hand whose power can roll 

The stone from the grave of the doubting soul. 

It little recks, who is next to go. 

Since the Master leads, who hath loved us so ; 

Since the risen Savior holds each breath 
In his hand divine; though we call it death, 

What matter? since our Lord is love, 
And death to earth, means life above. 



BROTHER BEN AND I. 

How OFT I turn and backward glance 
Along the dusty path of life. 

And long for joys of childhood's years, 
For freedom from all care and strife : 

O! would I were a child again. 

To roam the fields with Brother Ben. 

How oft, beneath the maple shade. 
We angled for the speckled trout, 

Or sailed our rough, unpainted boat, 
With merry glee and boyish shout; 

Life seemed so joyous, glad and free, 

To little Brother Ben and me. 



78 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

The white e.sfgs all so deftly hid, 

Close to the eves amid the hay, 
Seemed then of far more worth to me 

Than eggs of gold would seem to-day; 
How oft we climbed the ladder high — 
My little Brother Ben and I. 

Close nestled in our garret beds, 
Our music was the pattering rain 

Which fell upon the slanting roof, 
With winds to chime a loud refrain ; 

That garret seemed near heaven, when 

I shared the room with Brother Ben. 

The sparkling brook still dances on, 

The lark's sweet note rings through the glade, 

The reapers sing the same old song, 
The lowing herds stand in the shade 

Of the deep wood, where Ben and I 

Thought the tall trees reached to the sky. 

And we believed that angel bands — 

When midnight veiled the sleeping earth- 
Descended from their cloud-lined halls, 

And whispered flowerets into birth; 
An angel-ladder seemed each tree 
To little Brother Ben and me. 

Ah! childhood's cloudless, rosy hours, 

On dazzling wings flitted away. 
But memory, with her magic wand, 

Recalls each sunny scene to-day; 
Hand clasped in hand, I roam again, 
Througli flower-wreathed paths with Brother Beo. 



AUTUMN LEA VES. 



CONTENTMENT. 

The oriole, in her hammock, 

In the sunshine softly swung. 
Close by, in her hedge-row cottage, 
Brown thrush nestled her young; 
In her cunning nest. 
Her little round nest. 
While a joyous song she sung. 

The oriole, just as sweetly, 

Sang to her nestlings three: 
« Can she be happy, I wonder, 
"in her castle in yonder tree? 
In that new style nest. 
That queerly built nest," 
Said brown thrush, " I'll call and see." 

<*Why do you build so strangely? " 

And brown thrush paused for reply, 
And gazed at the oriole's hammock 
With a mocking scornful eye, 
"A queer-built nest! 
A new-fangled nest! 
From the earth 'tis far too high! " 

"Why weave together these grasses. 

Through the long, long summer day? 
A better nest I can teach you 
To build of the fragrant hay; 
A cunning nest! 
A little round nest! 
Hid from the world away; 



79 



So AUTUMN LEAVES. 

" 'Tis a joy to sing in the sunshine, 

I'm nearer heaven's own blue 
Than jou in jour straw-thatched cottage 
Down in the hedge-row dew. 
You'\'e a cozy nest! 
But mine is far best! 
I'm sure you must own this true." 



The hammock was filled with music, 

The oriole's joy unfeigned, 
And brown thrush learned a lesson. 
And this was the wisdom gained: 
"God loveth best" 
No form of nest. 
Contentment and love He claimed. 

And whether in cottage or castle, 

If duty be cheerfully done, 

Happiness follows the doer 

And blessedness nobly won. 

So the heart finds rest! 

For God knoweth best! 

If we need the shadows or sun. 



NIGHT. 

Through the drifting darkness, falleth 

The deep hush of eventide, 
Close beside me, in the shadows, 
. Phantoms pale around me glide, 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 8l 

Jn the west the clouds, storm-laden, 

Hide the evening star's pure light, 
And the trumpet- wind clangs fiercely, 

Herald of a stormy night. 

Deepest gloom and ice-cold sorrow 

CI ng to all that erst were dear. 
And tlae path once bright with flowers, 

Now is dark with cypress drear. 



ANSWER YOUR OWN PRAYERS. 

A RICH man knelt in the morning gray, 
Knelt with his wife and child to pray; 
Forgetting the heathen near at hand, 
He prayed for those in a foreign land : 
** Let the voice of the scorner be heard no more — 
Thresh thy wheat, O, Lord, on the Gospel floor. 

Break every idol, bow every knee. 

Let worship arise alone to thee! 

Let those who go down to Ganges' tide 

Be buried with Thee, the crucified; 

Let thy standard wave o'er India's sand. 

And thy temples be builded where idols stand. 

Let the cross arise and the crescent wane, 
And the Mussulmen learn Thy holy name; 
On the mountain tops let the Geber's fire, 
In the light of Thy truth fade and expire; 
Let sinners seek the open door, 
And error sink to rise no more. 



83 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Lord, bless thy servant Availing here, 
Wipe from all faces the falling tear, 
Clothe the naked and feed the poor, 
Send Thy promise from shore to shore; 
All our short comings we would confess, 
Lord, hear our prayer, and hearing bless." 

The rich man rose from his morning prayer, 

And sipped his Mocha from China rare; 

The glowing coal gave a summer heat, 

The carpet was soft 'neath his slippered feet; 

His wife in richest of robes was dressed — 

In " basket and store " was the rich man blest. 



Across the way, feeble and old, 
A widow toiled in her garret cold; 
This morn her child with hunger wept; 
No smoke up her fireless chimney crept: 
" Surely the rich man would find it joy 
To give me food for my starving boy." 

Solftly she entered and stood by his chair, 
But shrank as she saw his frowning stare: 
*' Only a crust, ' was her humble cry, 
" Or my boy in his garret-home must die; 
A crust, and one little stick to warm 
Once more his cold and shivering form. 

In your many barns are stores of grain, 

Your cattle are countless on hill and plain, 

Your ships at sea bear precious store. 

And your coffers with gold are running o'er; 

Iron and coal in your mines abound. 

And wealth flows up from the yielding ground." 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 83 

** Enough! " he cried, "I have naught to givel 
No beggar even deserves to live! " 

** Such mercy as you've shown," she said, 

*' God send again upon your head! " 
And faint with hunger she turned away, 
Too sad for tears, and too weak to pray, 

« Would it make you poor to give her bread? " 

The thoughtful child of the rich man said. 
<' Is that why you prayed for Christ to come 

So far away from his starry home? 

Will he bring that woman a crust to eat, 

And shoes for her cold and naked feet? 

I'm sure our teacher at Sunday-school 
Told us to follow the golden rule; 
And riches, she said, w^ere lent, not given, 
And charity, sweet, was the road to heaven — 
Do you think that Jesus will come to-day 
To feed those people across the way? " 
* -x- * * 

O, the wisdom that falls from the lips of a child! 

'Tis the Spirit's teachings all undefiled. 

For their souls have so lately 'scaped from heaven. 

That they bear the imprint by angels given; 

Only years of contact with sordid earth 

Can blot out the Christness God gives at birth. 

* -x- * * 

For a moment the rich man hung his head 
Abashed, before his child, then said : 
** To-day is Christmas, peace and good will 
Should fill each heart, do as you will, 
My child, with my store of yellow gold 
Give to the suffering, the poor, the old." 



84 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

** Papa, do you mean on this Christmas day, 
To answer the prayer God heard you say? '* 
Then this thought crept into tlie rich man's brain; 

" Prayer without works is worse than vain! " 
Now a song goes up from the angel band — 

" See^ his vjorks -with his;prayers go hand in hand.'''* 



OUR LESSON. 



The Master dwelt in Nazareth, 

And wrought with patient hand. 
The daily tasks that Joseph gave, 

Obeying each command; 
Teaching the lesson, by his life, 

Which he would have us learn. 
That there is work for us to do 

Whichever way we turn. 

And, "floating down the stream of time,' 

His voice falls soft and clear; 
Hark! you can catch the loving tone, 

If you but pause to hear, 
Take n J) your cross aud fol'ozv me ! " 

Ah! heavy task and drear! 
But, lo! His love hath made it light, 

Behold! the skies grow clear. 

No mortal, born, can ever say: 
" There is no work tor me! " 

For ignorance, and woe, and crime. 
On every side we see, 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 85 

Calling upon the Christian heart 

For pity and for prayer, 
For loving word and healing touch, 

For constant, faitl.ful care. 

The cup of water, ''in His name," 

Ah, who shall dare deny? 
The warning word, the loving look, 

To mortals passing by? 
We have no promise of good cheer, 

Save that which labor brings. 
The sweetest songs in all the earth, 

The honest toiler sings. 

To some He gives an humble sphere. 

With little earthly store, 
And well He knows their many cares. 

For He was poor before. 
And others are beset by woes, 

And never ending fears — 
His heart can feel their every grief— 

*' He was a man of tears." 

All lives must have their battle field. 

Ere Mecca looms in sight; 
Across all skies some clouds must rise. 

All days must have their night. 
But in the darkness, 'mid the storm, 

If we but do our best, 
Sweet faith will bridge the gulf that lies 

Between labor and rest. 



86 A UTUMN LEA V£S 



CHRISTMAS HYMN. 



*' Glory to God and peace on earth,'' 

Proclaimed the Savior's hour of birth ; 

Glory to God, He reigns on high, 
" Ruler alone of earth and sky." 
*' Peace be to man," this peace may be 

Ours, through a vast eternity; 

Our earthly house, by slow decay. 

May fade and pass from earth away. 
** Glory to God," in heavenly lands, 

An everlasting mansion stands. 

Where the pure river's ceaseless flood 
*' Makes glad the city of our God." 

The stars that sang at Jesus' birth 

Still circle round the rolling earth, 

Still "sing together as they shine," 

Of all His majesty divine ; 

Shall mortal lips refuse to sing 

The glory of this risen King, 

Or tell the story angels told 

To shepherds in the days of old — 

The story of that love divine 

Which naught can fathom, naught confine? 

Through death's dark and shadowy land, 

We shall climb where angels stand. 

If we help our poorer brother. 

Loving God and one another; 
Following Christ, the meek and lowly — 
Live as he lived, pure and holy; 

Sing, as angels sang in heaven : 
** Lo, the Star of Bethlehem's risen," 



A UtUMN LEA VES, 87 

Sing, as sang the stars of night; 
** Lo, he comes, the Lord of Light" — 

Shout aloud his glorious birth — 
** Glory to God and peace on earth.'* 



SILENT CONQUESTS. 

Encompassed by sorrow, beset by sin, 
Strong foes without and dark fears within, 
Longing for rest, yet longing in vain, 
For stretching afar is a desert plain. 
And our tired feet must cross the sand, 
To reach the vales of the Promised Land. 

Life's broken arrows unquivered lie. 
And joy expires with a long drawn sigh; 
Roses must fade, and thorns alone 
Are left where lately but beauty shone, 
And we clasp our torn and bleeding hands, 
Where beneath the cross pale Duty stands. 

There are dismal swamps where the scorpion hides, 

And dreary forests where death abides; 

There are rivers to ford and mountains to climb. 

In the noon-day heat of the summer time. 

Before we can walk the everglades 

Where the Lily of Sharon never fades. 

By echoless graves we pause and cry. 

But the moss-grown hollows give no reply; 

We tread frail bridges o'er dizzy heights, 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 

Oft led astray by unsphered lights, 
Ere by the waveless stream we stand, 
Dividing time from the timeless land. 

We must grope through the spectral gloom of night, 
When the storm-cloud hides the pale star-light, 
While the tempests break on the rock-bound shore, 
With sullen wail and angry roar, 
Ere we gain the harbor where rainbows smile 
O'er the calm, sweet waves round Eden's Isle. 



TO A FRIEND ON IIER THIRTY-FIFTH BIRTH-DAY. 

"The days of our years are three score >ears and ten. 

You're standing on the mountain height, 
Half-way from childhood's morning light, 
Half-way from death's enshrouding night, 
And all is well. 

The hopes of early days have fled ; 

False lights of later j-ears are dead; 

By Wisdom's hand you now are led, 

And all is well. 

The flowers you gathered on the waj 
Have withered slowly day by day; 
Their beauty was too frail to stay, 
Yet all is well. 

For fading they bequeathed to earth 
An emblem of the heavenly birth. 



A UTUMN LEA VES, 89 

The fragrance of undying worth, 
And all is well. 

Green graves like mile-stones mark the way 
To show where you have paused to say : 
« Thy will be done," and knelt to pray, 
Still all is well. 

Sweet Hope has led you by the hand, 
Her mission ends as here you stand; 
And Faith guides toward the sunset land. 
And all is well. 

And faithful memory onward goes 
To cheer you till the journey's close; 
Forgiveness scatters all your foes. 
And all is well. 

The weary toil that all must share, 
Man's birthright in this world of care, 
The cross which every soul must bear, 
You've borne full well. 

Now standing on this mountain height. 
Behold, the city greets your sight; 
The vale below is filled with light. 
And all is well. 

O, soul ! beyond this mountain crest. 
Behold thy home, thy place of rest, 
O, land of Beulah! bright and blest, 
Where all is well. 



901 A UTUMN LEA VES. 



MORNING PRAYER. 

Heavenly Father, grant thj grace, 

That we may all subdue 
Every sin which would efface 

Heaven and Thee from view. 
Prayerfully, may we forgive, 

Those who use us ill; 
And if waves of passion rise, 

Bid the waves be still. 

Teach us to pardon all our foes, 

To pardon and to love ; 
May our hearts seek only Thee, 

And the rest above ; 
Toil on, hope on, with perfect faith. 

Till faith is lost in sight. 
Till o'er the mountain-top we catch 

Heaven's battlements of light. 



THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. 

Ah, New Year, do you bring to-night 
Thornless rosts and undimmed light? 
Will your ermine mantle, your jewels rare, 
With their brightness blot out pain and care? 
Will the bloody sword of sin be sheathed? 
Will the gates of hell be laurel-wreathed? 



A UtUMN LEA VES. 91 

O, New-born Year! in jour earthward flight, 
Did you see the Old Year clothed in white? 
On an icy bier they laid his form, 
And bore him avv^ay 'mid the wintry storm. 
Oh, where have they made his lonely grave! 
It is hidden deep in Oblivion's cave? 

Listen! the pine tree's dreary wail 
Mingles and blends with the northern gale; 
The w^olf's a-cold in his snow-bound lair; 
The owl sits glum with his eyes a-fire. 
While I search in vain in midnight's gloom 
'Mong shadows weird for the Old Year's tomb. 

The skeleton hands of '' Long Ago " 
Thrust the misspent past, with its bitter woe, 
In the path my weary feet must tread. 
And I hear the steps of the sheeted dead. 
Others may ring their joy-bells clear, 
My bells must toll for the old, dead year. 



GOD IS OUR REFUGE. 

" God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." — Psalm xlvi. 

" God is our refuge,'' to Him we will fly 
When the dark clouds of sorrow are gathering nigh; 
When tempests of anguish about us shall roll, 
He'll scatter the darkness, breathing peace to the soul. 



9-J A UTUMN L EA VES. 

His love is around us, He'll guard us from harm; 
Wherever we wander, we shall feel His strong arm; 
With garments of glorj He covers the land, 
And blesses His children with bountiful hand. 

In God is our strength! His children he^ll guide, 
And keep them from evil, from folly and pride; 
To the careless, the sinful who stray from His fold, 
His grace is abundant, His love is untold. 

" His wisdom is perfect," His promises sure; 
His mercy, unfathomed, through time shall endure; 
He watches His children with tenderest care. 
And a home in bright mansions His hand shall prepare. 

" Our strength" He will be; He taketh our hand 

To lead us through death to eternity's land; 
" Though the earth were removed, mountains sunk in the sea, 
*' He's our city of refuge," to Him we will flee. 



A PRAYER FOR STRENGTH. 

I DO NOT ask for rest, but strength to labor on; 

I do not ask for wages, 'till the day of toil is done; 

I do not ask for sunlight, but power to meet the blast, 

And the Master's hand to guide me when skies are overcast. 

I do not ask for wealth, for well I know, dear Lord, 

I have Thy promise — '^Daily bread — " as written in Thy Word; 

And as I go my way alone, in sorrow's weary night, 

When all earth's stars have faded, be Thou the guiding light. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 93 

I do not ask for life! but O, I long to hear 

Thy loving whisper — " Peace, be still," to the dai'k waves of fear; 
Though poverty be steeped in tears, O, make me strong to bear 
The doom of woe Thou sendest me, nor doubt Thy loving care. 

If I must tread the woeful paths of dread Mount Calvary, 
To reach the hallowed shrine where dwells alone. Infinity; 
If I niust bear to watch and weep amid this life's unrest, 
O, take away each broken reed and clasp me to Thy breast. 

If from the harvest-fields of life I'm driven forth in pain. 

If I must, weeping stand and wait, while others reap the grain. 

Surely a cup of water e'en my poor trembling hand 

Can offer to the toilers — the weary — working band. 

E'en from the scantiest table, some little crumbs may fall. 
Which will feed the tiny sparrow, — God's love is over all — 
When pale lips murmur blessings tor charity that's given, 
Of the motives of the giver, a record's made in heaven. 

The white smoke, from the altar of self-sacrifice, will shed 
A fadeless glow along the way that weary feet must tread; 
The vines by martyrs planted the purple clusters bear. 
And flowers, e'en in their dying, shed fragrance on the air. 

From Marah's bitter waters I fain would turn away. 
But if I needs must drink the cup, O, strengthen me, I pray! 
" To the end I will be with you ! " precious promise in our pain, 
And thus the two-fold meaning of sorrow is made plain. 

Earth's children, weeping ever, send forth a ceaseless moan. 
Yet never, in their sorrow, do they agonize alone : 
There is no obscure pathway where mortal feet may tread, 
But the ever-reaching sunlight of God's smile is overhead. 



94 ^ UTUMN LEA VES. 



SPRING. 

Sweet spring has kissed the field and wood, 

The lilacs are in bloom, 
The dew hides in the violet's heart, 

The rose breathes sweet perfume. 
The blue-birds chatter in the trees, 

The sparrow in the hedge ; 
The brook is playing hide-and-seek, 

With willow-wand and sedge. 

The pink has caught a fairy's heart, 

And wears it on her breast, 
The daffodil and buttercup. 

Are gay in golden vest. 
The blushing daisy hides her head. 

Behind her glossy leaves; 
And close beside, the spider gray, 

His web of laces weaves. 

Like flashing gems, the orioles 

Swing in the balsam tree; 
The morning glory's stainless heart 

Enfolds the humming-bee; 
The trailing myrtle's starry eyes 

Have gazed so long above, 
That they have stolen from the skies 

The hue that angels love 

Spring, with her thousand miracles. 
Spring, with her sweet-brier face, 

Teaches lessons of holy trust. 
Teaches lessons of grac^. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 95 

Patient she waits, when March winds blow; 

Patient through April showers; 
Through tears she smiles and looks above, 

For heaven-promised flowers. 



DOUBTING CASTLE. 

Long ages ago, "Doubting-castle'* 

Was built in the forest so drear; 
Sorrow keeps guard at the portal ; 

The warder is sable-robed Fear. 

The sunlight of faith never enters; 

Love shudders, and hastens away 
From the corridors mjsterj-haunted, 

Where the spectres of past ages stray. 

The cry of the owl and the bittern 
Is heard 'mid the gloom of the night. 

The storm-phantoms shriek in the gloaming, 
Where Bigotry hides from the light. 

The red meteor gleams o'er the casement, 
Like grave-lights that play round the tomb; 

And the tapestry hung in its chambers 
Is woven in sophistry's loom. 

The death-loving spider has woven 

A shroud, o'er each fair sculptered face; 

And dimmed and defaced by Time's fingers, 
The lines once by artist-hand traced. 



96 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Neither sunlight, nor beauty, nor gladness, 
O'er the hearth-stone, will evermore pass; 

Only woe, decked in hemlock and cypress, 
Peers, skeleton-eyed, through the glass. 



THEY SAY. 

You have heard of the raven, " Nevermore^'' 
That croaked to Poe of his lost Lenore; 
There's a blacker raven across the way, 
Croaking forever, " They say, they say." 

He hides his head from the sun's pure light, 
But his voice rings out through the darksome night- 
Let all who hear kneel down and pray 
'Gainst the power of the demon-bird, " I'hoy say." 

Where falsehood and envy crawl and creep, 
Like poison vines in dark woods deep. 
He flits, 'mid phantoms chill and gray, 
Hoarsely croaking, "They say, they say." 

His sharp claws tear the bleeding breast. 

He drags each thought from its place of rest; 

The smile on the young face fades away, 

As this dark bird shrieks, "They say, they say." 

Let the fair bride pause in the lightsome dance, 
And the lover check his love-lit glance. 
And hide, young mother, thy babe away 
From the mocking fiend, " They say, they say." 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 97 

Christian, thj armor may be bright, 

But enter not the unequal fight — 

'Twill be rent and tarnished in any fraj 

You may have with the loathsome bird, "They say." 

There is no weapon of earthly mould, 
No rest save the grave's deep bosom cold, 
'Gainst the bird that battens on human prey 
The demon raven, "They say, they say.'* 



THE SEA. 



** O, GLORIOUS sea! O, glorious seal 

'Thou art wondrous fair and great in power;* 
On rocky shores thy wild waves beat, 

Round islets fair thy breakers roam. 
No man may traverse the trackless path, 

That takes thee afar to thy northern home; 
Afar — where an icy seal is set, 

Like a jeweled crown on thy death-cold brow, 
Where winter's eternal reign begins. 

And death rides aloft on each vessel's prow. 
Thou singest to me of still other lands. 

Where summer is queen of the realm of flowers. 
Where thy waves are hushed to a murmur sweet, 

And love alone fills the passing hours. 
I dream of those whose graves are made 

In thy wondrous caverns deep, below — 
They slumber sweet in coral halls — 

Lit up by pearl's pale lambent glow." 



98 AUTUMN LEAVES, 



LOVE. 

** Love je one anotherl '* 
Con the lesson o'er 
Till on the spirit's altar, 
It burns forever more. 

*' Love je one another! " 

Bid every thought depart, 
Which, in unguarded speaking. 
Might chill and wound the heart. 

Love's the only passpojt. 

Across the rolling flood. 
That stretches dark and cheerless 

Between us and our God. 

**Love ye one another! " 

'Twas whispered long ago, 

By One who came to show us 

The way that we must go. 

Divinely born and uttered, 

These words from God on high. 

Form the star-lit ladder, 
We climb to reach the sky. 

They're the " Law and Prophet; '* 
They make the ''Gospel plan; " 

They shadow forth the glory 
Th9.t heaven holds for man. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 99 



THE DYING YEAR. 

Toll, toll, midnight bells, toll for the year that's dying; 
Underneath a snowy shroud his aged form is lying; 

North-winds wailing, hemlock trailing, 
Over the couch of the year that's dying. 
Over the form in grave-clothes lying. 

Toll, toll, midnight bells. King Death his court is keeping; 
Another year, another year in Time's cold vault is sleeping; 

North-winds wailing, moonbeams paling 
Over the grave of the cold dead year: 
Over the form on its snowy bier. 



VIOLETS. 



The precious violets wet with dew 
Of modest worth are emblems true; 
They've caught the color of the skies, 
And hold it in their sweet blue eyes; 
O, learn of them that virtue dwells 
In lowly homes and forest dells. 



THE ROSE. 

'Tis SAID, the rose was ever white, 
Until in Gethsemane, at night, 
The Savior bathed the flowers in blood 
From drops that on his forehead stood. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 



THE DOVE AND THE CHERUB. 

A CHERUB on a summer's day, 
From heaven had wandered far away — 
A tiny cherub bright and fair, 
With azure wings and golden hair. 

He sported 'mid heaven's cloud-lined halls, 
And danced upon the waterfalls, 
Where rainbow spray gave back the light 
Like flashing diamonds pure and bright; 

Then, growing weary, sought the dell, 
And creeping in a lily-bell, 
In peaceful slumber closed his eyes. 
And wild bees hummed his lullabies. 

But storm-clouds dimmed the sun's fair light. 
The cherub woke in sore affright. 
And cried aloud in wild dismay: 
The sunny hours in idle play- 
Were passed; now comes the hour of gloom — 
My work unfinished, far from home 
I wander, lost, nor know the way. 
And evening brings the closing day." 

Just then the storm-cloud opened wide, 
A snow-white dove flew to his side 
Harnessed with bands of heavenly light. 
And pinions quivering for flight. 

He hailed the dove with rapture wild, 
And through his tears looked up and smiled; 
Then hasted toward the setting sun. 
To do the work he'd left undone. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. lOi 

The cherub's mission led him where 

A wail rose on the evening air, 

From one who wept above a bier — 

He checked his flight and whispered clear: 

<< Your darling rests — though dark the gloom, 
Arise, and gaze above the tomb! " 
The mourner saw the white-winged dove, 
And heard the cherub's voice of love; 
Her heart grew calm, she hushed her fears. 
And radiant smiles shone through her tears. 

Thej heard, above the city's din. 
The sweet notes of an evening hymn; 
A saint's glad anthem, loud and clear, 
The'cherub paused and lingered near. 

He saw, in Azriel's presence chill. 
The Christian's form grow pale and still. 
But caught his smile of faith and love — 
His whispered, " There is rest above." 

Once more he paused ; this time to win 
A soul from paths of shame and sin; 
Then passing through the star-lit night. 
Reached heaven's gates of pearly white. 

Low knelt the cherub at the throne: 
*' Father, this truth I fain would own, 
True happiness is only found, 
In all the universe around, 
By those who seek to do thy will, 
And all thy great commands fulfill; 
And only such can hope for rest 
In the bright mansions of the blest." 



I02 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

The dove this message took to earth; 
The cherub, child of heavenly birth, 
Enrobed in light and seen afar, 
Mortals have named, "The Evening Star." 



MAY AND I. 



May is dressed in costly raiment, 

In fabrics rich and rare. 
And diamonds are on her lily hands, 

And pearls in her raven hair. 

Stately and cold she passes, 

Drawing her robes aside. 
Lest she touch with the hem of her garment, 

One she scorns in haughty pride. 

My hands are brown with toiling; 

My garments plain and old; 
Yet, of far more worth are my treasures, 

Than all of her stores of gold. 

Gone, her father and mother; 

Gone, brothers and sisters — all — 
She, alone, in her icy grandeur, 

Reigns in the gloomy hall. 

/have a darling mother 

Asleep in her easy chair, 
Where the shimmering fire-light brightens 

The waves of her whitening hair. 



A X)TUMN LEA VES, 163 

/have a dear old father 

Who shields me with tender love; 
On earth 07ie brother, otie sister, 

And loved ones waiting above* 

She in her lordly castle 

Is dwelling unloved, in stated 
Thank God, for the lowlj cottage 

That saveth me such a fate! 

Would /have her gold and diamonds I 

Her parks and the ancient hall, 
In exchange for the friends I cherish, 

And the love that is over all? 

Ah! "mine are the truest riches; 

For Love, the Alchemist rare, 
Turneth all ills into blessings. 

And shieldeth the heart from care. 



THE SECRET. 



The robin just told her lover, 

The wind caught up the refrain, 
And told the bee in the clo\er, 

Who whispered it once and again 
To vvildwood and garden flower, 

To the heart's-ease upon the lea, 
To the ivy upon the tower 

Of the castle beside the sea. 



104 A UTUMN LEA VES, 

Like an emerald on waves white-crested 

An ivy leaf floated awaj', 
And neither paused nor rested, 

Till night on the waters lay. 
But a lilj, in fragrant dreamings, 

Asleep in the sea's embrace, 
Awoke and read the secret 

In the glance of his beaming face. 

Her perfumed prayers uplifting. 

She kissed the sea of blue, 
In her pure glory drifting, 

To death she passed from view. 

But the mermaid caught the glory 
That glowed in her raptured eye, 

From her fainting lips the story 
Which made her joy to die. 
* * * * 

Safe hid in a ruby sea cave, a star-fish heard the tale; 

He flashed through the circling waters, nor paused for the wild- 
est gale; 

And wherever he sailed, like lightning the story flamed and 
glowed, 

And Neptune listened and told it, in the gloom of his dark 
abode. 

Then Gnomes sped away to the ice-land, where with spears and 

glit'ring shields, 
They traversed the crystal desert and swept o'er the snow white 

fields. 
Till they reached where the clouds of midnight, 

Touched the pole with Erebus-hands, 
Where known and unknown uniting 

In the region of mystery stands. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 105 

The clouds, as they listened, grew darker, till a flash like a river 

of light, 
Proclaimed Aurora borealis the Queen of the northern night; 
Then her "army with banners" went marching down the fields 

of unlimited space. 
And so, in that serial journey the secret was carried — • 
Was carried to stars and planets. 

And whispered through earth and air; 
It flashed in the summer lightning, 

And blushed in the rosebud fair. 

The secret! man never may know it, 

'Tis a wonderful, wordless song. 
Which Nature teaches her children; 
^ To her realm does the secret belong. 
Perhaps 'tis a voice of thanksgiving 

To Him who creates by His word, 
A voice from Eternity's fountain. 

By sin-deafened mortals unheard; 
We know only this, wordless anthems, 

Through Nature, must reach Nature's God. 



IDOL WORSHIP. 



We pray for those who bend the knee 

To idols, in a far off land, 
Lament their darkened distiny 

Who dwell where Ganges laves the strand, 
And fain would scatter Christian light 
In climes o'erspread by heathen night, 
Plant semaphores where darkness reigns — 
Where superstition winds her chains. 



io6 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

We pity those whose children fall 
A prey to wild beasts in their lair, 

And shudder that the mother-love 
Gives sacrifice as well as prayer; 

And dreams her god accepts the child 

She places in the jungle wild, 

Or sends afloat in bamboo bark, 

Cradled upon the water dark. 

We know, in truth, the funeral pyre 

Consumes the living with the dead; 
In pitying tears we turn aside, 

And leave the pages half unread. 
Which breathe the dark and murderous tale 
Of widows burned in Siam's vale, 
Or buried with the mouldering dead. 
The grave their last sought bridal bed. 

We, too, are idol worshipers. 

While gazing 'cross the Indian Sea, 
And there are heathen dark and blind 

In cultured, proud America. 
Yes, there are Arabs in the streets, 
And Magdalenes with faltering feet, 
That wander on in sin and night — 
What hand shall lead them up to light? 

We bow to Baal! We are not free! 

Alas, we share the Hindoo's crime, 
And join with idol worshipers 

In this Bible-lighted clime. 
Behold the red light o'er the way, 
Where men their souls in madness slay, 
Where grape-crowned Bacchus throned above 
Demands their hopes, their lives, their love. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. X07 

Why wonder, then, when low in dust 

The Brahman to his idol bows, 
Or reverences a million gods, 

And pays to Vishnu holy vows, 
When here men make a god of wine, 
And mar the image once divine? 
The Brahman only does the same 
To idols with anothel" name. 

What means the gambler's phrenzied eye, 

When on the altar reared to chance 
He stakes his every hope of heaven, 

Nor gives to God one backward glance? 
No Brahman yields his idol more 
Than love, and life, and golden store; 
No fabled god by Ganges waves 
Lures victims on to darker graves. 

Have we no idols? Watch the throng 

Who gather at the open door, 
Where Can-can revels on the boards, 

And music from the viols pour. 
The devotee here brings his gold 
In summer's heat in winter's cold — 
Whatever life holds pure and fair, 
He smiling gives the idol there. 

No idols! when the greed for gold 

Makes man forget his brother's weal. 
And grasp the purse with Judas hand. 

Willing to bribe, or cheat, or steal! 
The promised Truth, to make men free 
Must in all men a brother see- 
Must, entering into heart and brain. 
Drive out self-love and love of gain, 



io8 A UTUMN LEA VMS. 

And feel that men are brothers all, 

" Fallen, perhaps, but brothers still," 
Needing some hand to lift them up. 

And stay their feet from paths of ill. 
Are we from idol worship free? 
Come, gaze upon this human sea, 
That moves in restless waves along 
The streets, where fashion rules the throng! 

** Look at the churches? " Ah, I see 

Where sunlit spires reach to the clouds, 
Where silk-robed worshipers enthrong, 

Where eloquence holds sway o'er crowds; 
But 'tis not gospel truth I hear, 
From lips that drink of fountains clear, 
But foamy words of modern school, 
Dipped from Tradition's muddy pool. 

The churches! Luxui"y and pride 
Opens the door and enters thei-e. 
While poverty, bowed down in tears. 

May find no place to kneel in prayer, 
In these vast piles of granite gray. 
Gorgeous with gold, with purple gay; 
From arch to aisle, above, around. 
No room for humble worth is found. 

And do not we who know the Truth, 
Drift idly on in careless ease, 

Giving a mite of time or gold, 

Striving our conscience to appease.? 

Those who believe, their faith should prove; 

'Tis not enough to deal out love 

In h )moeopa hie doses small. 

For yesus died alike for all. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 109 

A wondrous charge the Master gave : 

" Disciples! brethren! feed mj sheep! '* 

And thrice again, ''Feed thou my lambs! " 
Then, rouse je ! rouse ye! from your sleep, 

For, lo! the lambs have wandered far, 

With neither shelter, food, nor cai"e; 

The fold, unguarded, falls a prey 

To wolves that watch for those that stray. 

Let those who listen, ask their hearts 
How much of Christ-life they possess? 

Lest some are drunken by your wine, 
Do you refuse the grape to press? 

Will you your brother's weakness hold 

Abo^ve the tempter's offered gold. 

Lest you should cause your brother sin? 

For drunkards may not enter in. 

And, Christian women, do you pause 

Before you speak the word of blame, 
Lest the last spark of hope you crush. 
And Avreck a soul in sin and shame? 
Remember! only those may cast 
A stone who, in their whole life past, 
Have kept their robes spotless and white — 
E'en they should pray: ^^ Lord, give me light P^ 

For, happen, if blind pride should guide 
The hand which holds the stone of wrath, 

The zeal which would thus conquer ill 
Might worse obstruct another's path, 

And cause a soul to turn away 

Who else had found the better waj-; 

And woe to those who thus offend 

The weary feet that might ascend. 



I lo A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Whichever way we turn our ejes, 

Work for the Master we shall find ; 
Diamonds uncut, marble unhewn, 

A healing touch for eyes now blind; 
From garden beds to pluck the rue, 
And plant the morning-glory blue; 
Who toils for man, in faith sublime, 
Holds consecrate God's holy shrine. 

A soul, the all in all of man. 

The clinging dross of earth may hide, 
But who shall tell the worth of that 
For which the Infinite hath died? 
The farmer does not plant his field 
Expecting thorns the grape to yield, 
Nor turn the furrow and then sow 
The thistle, thinking flowers will grow. 

Yet to this lesson, old and plain, 

Mankind will pay but little heed, 
Or in the mind of every child, 

They'd pause to sow the gospel seed. 
Nor leave the soil to careless hands, 
Or idle winds, or drifting sands, 
Or wasting passion's typhoon blight, 
Or superstition's gloomy night. 

Dear mothers, count your jewels o'er, 

And keep them safe from falsehood's ill, 
And learn of Him who loveth much. 

And wait upon His perfect wall; 
And know that He who gave will ask. 
Their safe retui-n when time is past; 
And, mother, think your labor light 
If you but save the diamond bright, 



A UTUMN LEA VES, 1 1 1 

O, Christian preacher, ponder well, 

Whether the lesson jou would teach 
Is one to make life's duties plain. 

One that from heart to heart will reach, 
Lest traveling in the car of thought, 
The letters on the fancy wrought, 
With touch too light for hearts to feel. 
Some messenger of Doubt may steal. 

Oh, if my weak and feeble voice 

Could sound the trumpet of alarm ! 
My hand tear off the blinding mask 

Which Vice assumes to Avork her charm I 
If those who walk in flowery ways 
Coyld on the hidden serpent gaze, 
They'd turn aside in wild dismay, 
To Duty's mountain steep and gray. 

But while we love our native shores, 
And work for souls with purpose true. 

Shall we forget the Island band 

Who stretch their longing hands in view? 

Shall missionaries plead in vain 

For pittance of our golden grain? 

Oh, let us lift our banner white, 

That leads them up to gospel light! 

We know that 'mid life's changing scenes. 
Who plants the smallest seed in tears 

Shall see it bloom and bear its fruit, 
Enriching all the coming years. 

God's promises before us rise, 

A ladder reaching to the skies. 

And he who sows in faith sublime, 

Shall gather at the harvest time. 



AUTUMN LEA VES. 

And if alone the gleaner's prize 

Is left where many hands have wrought; 
If lonely-hearted you have bound 

The sheaves that others left unsought, 
Whether you gleaned on mount or plain, 
The Lord accepts your golden grain ; • 
And when the harvest day is done, 
He'll welcome thee to " harvest home." 

Then faithful sow and faithful reap, 

The truth He gives to thee; 
Watered by blood from Calvary, 

This Truth shall make thee free. 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 

When Jesus, in the wilderness, 

In sore temptation prayed, 
The angels ministered to him 

And Satan fled dismayed. 
He taught the waiting multitude, 

''As he sat beside the sea," 
Among the humble fishermen. 
On the shores of Galilee. 
But of all his loving labors, 

There's none the heart so thrills, 
As when he blessed the children, 
Among Judean hills. 

To all the people he proclaimed; 
"The kingdom is at hand}" 



A UTUMN LEA VES, 1 13 

Tempestuous waves and winds obeyed 

The voice of his command. 
God's " Great Evangel " to the poor, 

Yet poorer still than they, 
He broke for them the bread of life, 
He knelt with them to pray. 
Yet of all his loving labors, 

None are so dear, so sweet, 
As when he blessed the children. 
That gathered at his feet. 

To blinded eyes he gave the light 

Till they could on him gaze, 
And see the tender pitying love 

Which glorified his face; 
Forgave the sins of her who knelt 
And washed his feet with tears; 
Met icy death and broke his bonds, 
Conquering the grave's dark fears. 
Yet the sweetest, dearest story, 

Where all have priceless charms, 
Is when he blessed the children. 
As he took them in his arms. 

While Martha wept, and Mary prayed. 

He spake — their pulses thrill — 
*' Come forth! " and lo, their brother, dead, 

Obeyed the Master's will. 
The leper, palsied, lame and dumb, 

Touched by his healing hand. 
Acknowledged him their Lord and King, 
Throughout the " Holy Land." 
But of all his loving labors. 

There's none the heart so thrills, 
As when he blessed the children, 
Among Judean hills. 



114 A UTUMN LEA VES, 



FAREWELL. 

Farewell, Old Year, farewell! 

My tears fall thick and fast, 
For sadly tolls the funeral knell, 

O'er joys forever past. 

My graves are dark and deep, 
And with a breaking heart. 

My vigils I must sadly keep. 
From all the world apart. 

The sacred flower of love 
Has withered at thy breath, 

And Hope, the wandering dove. 
Folded her wings in death. 

Friendship, a-chill, lies low. 

With blood-drops on her breast; 

** Faithless " — for such I know, 
Earth holds no place of rest. 

Faith sadly weeps with me, 

O'er broken hopes and dreams, 

Whelmed 'neath despair's dark sea. 
Where grave-light only gleams. 

Farewell ! the parting hour 
Has come for you and me; 

I take life's burdens up once more, 
Though dark the way may be. 

My Father sends the cross! 

<* He doeth all things well! ' 
As gain I'll count all pain and loss; 

Farewell, Old Year, farewell. 



A UTUMN LEA VES, 1 15 



THE DEATH MARCH. 

"King Alcohol" marches with giant tread 

His band an unnumbered host, 
Over mountain, through peaceful vale, 
Wherever he pauses goes up a wail 

For husbands or brothers lost. 

The floods ot the sea can ne'er efface 
The blood from the path they tread; 
A skeleton pyramid rises high 
Where the countless army passes by, 
Marching on to the realms of the dead. 

All vain is the mother's love-kiss warm 

To rescue her wayward child, 
He breaks from the hold of her clasping hand, 
- From the clinging lave of the household band, 
Drowning reason in frenzy wild. 

The power of the strong man ebbs away. 

His pulses beat faint and low, 
He heavily draws his trembling breath 
As he follows the standard-bearer, Death, 

And his bounding step grows sl( 



low. 



The fire is quenched on the cottage hearth 

By the tyrant's poisonous breath; 
The plow of the farmer idly rusts. 
The student's books are dim with dust — 

They've joined the march of death. 

Must the holiest '' light" the Lord hath made, 
Like the flashing meteor die? 



1 16 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Must fettered souls in gloom expire, 
To build the ghastlj' funeral pyre, 
Which is blazing to the sky? 

Alas! for mourners who watch and pray 

O'er the slain on this field of blood, 
Or over the prisoners bound in chains, 
Or held in dungeons where madness reigns, 
Forgetful of home or God. 

Alas for the Nation ! Let heaven's bell toll 

Over youth and virtue lost; 
Let it rouse the dreamers, till men of might. 
With Hellenic thunders, shall put to flight 

The vanguard of Satan's host. 



JUNE. 

Sweetest daughter of the year. 
Sunny, flower-wreathed June is near; 
In her foot-prints, wet with dew, 
Violets spring, with eyes of blue. 
Tangled song of wren and thrush 
Greet us from the lilac bush, 
While in fragrance, at our feet, 
Fall the apple blossoms sweet. 
Like scattered pearls the clover bloom 
Encrowns the brow of smiling June; 
Roses in her hand she brings — 
In the hed^e the robin sings. 

The dandelion's curls of gold 
Are mingled in a mazy fold. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 1 1 7 

With the strawberry's crimson sheen, 
And waving grasses cool and green. 
O'er tinv lake, neath cjpress tall, 
Sunlight and shadows shifting fall; 
Embosomed on the water deep. 
The white-souled lilj tails asleep. 
From mossy glade and bosky dell 
Steals music, like a fairy bell 
In joyous notes, the feathered throng 
Thanking God for gift of song. 



THE FISHERMAN SONG. 

I HAVE wandered since the dawning 

On the ocean's wave-washed shore — • ' 
In my heart a deathless longing 

Must dwell forever more ; 
For where the wild waves glisten, 
They kiss my darling fair, 
My lost love, Madeline, with wavy, golden hair. 
She is sleeping, ever sleeping, 

Dreamless and fair, 
My lost bride, Madeline, 
With wavy, golden hair. 



I watch the tempests gather 
Across the darkening sky, 

The wild winds, like a feather, 
Toss white waves mountain high; 

But the lightning's quivering flashes 
Can not wake my darling fair. 



1 18 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Mj lost love, Madeline, with wavy, golden hair. 
She is sleeping, ever sleeping, 

'Mid pearls so rare, 
My long lost Madeline, 
With wavy, golden hair. 

Heart-broken, sad and wearj'j 

I linger on the shore. 
And list the waves so dreary 

Murmur, *' forever more 
We hold within our keeping 
Your jewel, pure and rare, 
Your lost bride, Madeline, with wavy, golden hair. 
In her ocean-bed she's sleeping 

Free from earth's care, 
Your lost bride, Madeline, 
With wavy, golden hair.'* 



THE OCEAN. 



They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters, these 
see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. Psalm cvii: 2j, 24. 

The white winged ship obeys the helm, 

And cleaves the sea in twain, 
While the sailor reads the starry scroll 

That makes his pathway plain; 
As the prophet read the tyrant's fall 

In letters of burning light. 
The lonely mariner on the deep 

Thus guides his bark aright. 



A UTUMN LEA VES, r 1 9 

Where coral-workers rear their towers, 

And build their ophal caves, 
The wrecks of centuries mouldering He, 

Deep in the unfathomed waves. 
While foam-crowned breakers requiems sing 

For those in ocean-bed, 
Asleep, 'till the Master's voice shall call 

To the sea: " Give up thy dead." 

The northern lights, the whirlpool's roar, 

The tempest in its might, 
The sea-fires shining 'cross the waves 

When storm kings rule the night — • 
The icebergs floating mountain high, 

The snow clouds darkling frown, 
Bespeak God's power, to puny men 

Who to the deep go down. 

To those who walk Time's phantom shores, 

Filled with life's sad unrest, 
Watching for ships that never come 

From "Islands of the Blest," 
Faith points to sun-crowned mountain heights 

Across the valley chill, 
While to our fears, as to the waves, 

Christ whispers : " Peace, be stilll " 



1 20 A UTUMN LEA VES. 



OVERSHADOWED. 

Is THY way with thorns thick sown? 
Are thy flowers with weeds o'ergrown? 
Do the clouds which o'er thee rise, 
Hide the bhie of summer skies? 
Have friends you trusted turned aside, 
Filled with scorn, distrust or pride? 

Have the years left bitter trace 
Of pain and sorrow on thy face? 
Has thy hair's once sunny ^low 
Turned to flecks of winter snow? 
Have the eyes which once were bright 
Lost in tears their happy light? 

Where music once the hearth-stone blessed, 

Do the harp-strings silent rest? 

Do the buds of promise lie 

Withered beneath a storm-wracked sky? 

From the chill of wintry day 

Have the song-birds fled away? 

Do the waves of anguish roll, 
"Tempest-tossed" across thy soul? 
Has time stretched his fateful hand 
And scattered Avide thy household band? 
Does the grave's dark chambers hide 
All that made life's joy and pride? 

Is there not one ray of light 

To pierce the darkness of thy night? 

Is there not a silver bow, 

Rich with Truth's effulgent glow? 



A UTUMN LEA VES. "i 

Is there no tracery of gold, 

Lining the black cloud's deepest fold? 

Will He who heeds the sparrow's fall, 
Refuse His children when they call? 
Lift up your eyes and catch the gleam. 
Of Bethlehem's Star across the stream. 
God's love creates a ladder bright, 
Which spans the gloom of death and night. 

And though below, the surges roll, 

The Savior's voice the waves control; 

Lay at His feet your stubborn will 

And hear Him whisper: " Peace, be still! '' 

While love and mercy bending down. 

Place on your brow a star gemmed crown. 



THE LAND OF BEAUTY. 

There's beauty in the sunshine 

That gilds with radiant light, 
The clover-blooming meadows, 

And mountain's lofty height; 
That braids with gold, the willow, 

And kisses into birth 
The flowers of vale and hillside, 

To wreathe the waiting earth. 

There's beauty in the moonbeam. 
That floats on silver wing, 

To wake the dreaming lilies 
With promises of spring — 



123 A UTUMN LEA VES, 

In rivers hastening, ever, 
To meet the waiting sea, 

Catching the rainbow's colors, 
From sky, and flower and tree. 

With joy the thrush and blue-bird 

Sound through the forest aisle 
Their sweet songs of thanksgiving, 

While bud and blossom smile; 
And all the groves are stirring 

To wind-harp anthems free, 
And Aspen tassels quiver 

With the wild minstrelsy. 

The hand of God, with beauty, 

Has traced His great design 
Upon the blushing rose-leaf 

And mountain cliff sublime; 
But earth, with all its brightness. 

Grows pale, and dim, and cold, 
Compared with heavenly glory 

Shut in by gates of gold. 



THE SWALLOWS' WELCOME. 

Bright little swallows, welcome once more, 
Your long winter wanderings safely are o'er: 
Flitting so fearlessly, on purple wing, 
Sweet to our hearts is the promise you bring. 



A UTUMN LEA VES, 123 

'Neath the low eaves joiir cottage you'll find, 
Safe where jou placed it, untouched by the wind; 
Its portals of clay, half hidden from view, 
By the widespreading arms of the mossy old yew. 

Now you're darting aloft to the blue of the skies. 
Beyond the fond gazing of all mortal eyes. 
Then gracefully floating from cloud-land afar. 
With your wings all a-quiver and eyes like a star! 

If like thee^ forgetting our houses of clay. 
We could rise 'bove the clouds, obscuring our way, 
And gather from heaven stores of patience and grace, 
We'd nevermore falter at life's darkest place. 

What though we dwell in the lowliest cot, 
Scorned by proud worldlings, by others forgot; 
If no songs of rapture our voices can raise. 
Even silence is sometimes the soul of all praise. 

Ah, bird of the pilgrims, with faith like to thine, 
We can make of our earth-life a picture sublime; 
For the end of all wisdom is sweetest content. 
Whether sunshine or clouds on our pathway are sent. 



DECEMBER. 



December — bitter and cold and drear, 
Is weaving a shroud for the dying year; 
Weaving a shroud of the snow-flakes white, 
Weaving alone through the silent night. 



1 24 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Souls in smiliiif^, and souls in tears, 
Have watched the tlight of the passing years; 
And man}' sin-stained, a-tremble with fright, 
Would stop Time's shuttle's unceasing flight. 

While others rejoice that the weaver gray. 
In each thread of the warp has numbered a day — 
Each thread of the woof a good deed done — 
Life's web shows fair in the setting sun. 

While the weaver is counting each passing hour, 
The bells in the snow-wreathed, ice-covered tower 
Are chiming the story of Him whose birth 
Brought light and life to the death-dark earth. 

"My heart is a-chill," the weaver cries, 
While the half-filled shuttle he swiftly plies; 

" My hour approaches, this broken thread 
Must be mended by other hands instead." 

His voice falls faint on the midnight air; 
And the pearl-gemmed shroud so pure and fair 
Covers the child and his white-haired sire. 
For December lies dead with the old dead year. 



RESTORED. 



The rain is drearily falling, 
And the pine trees* restless moan 

Makes me shiver and tremble, 
As I sit by the hearth alone. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 125 

Out from the growing shadows, 

March spectres to and fro, 
And memory's hall is crowded 

With scenes of long ago. 

First the form of vay lover^ 

Mj lover now, as then — 
Who sailed away in the sunlight, 

My beautiful Marmiden. 

The brave old ship was shattered 

And lost in a northern gale; 
'Twas just such a storm as this is. 

Just so did the pine trees wail. 

As I list to the call of the breakers, 

I long for the restful sleep. 
Where heart-pain is hushed forever. 

In eternity's infinite deep. 

I dream, and my dreams are of heaven. 
For I meet wath the loved ones again, 

Bodies, not spirits, are fettered 
To earth, by mortality's chain. 

The firelight fades, and darkness 

Gathers around me, sombre and chill. 

And I long for power, like the Master, 
To whisper : '' Peace, be still ; " 

To whisper /e^ce to the ocean, 

Hoarse beating the rock-ribbed shore — 

To whisper ^^ace to the longing 
Of my sad soul, evermore. 



126 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Hark! thej are ringing the church bells, 
Thej tolled them a year to-night, 

For the loss of the crew and captain, 
Of the good ship. Northern Light. 

A step ! 'tis the step of my lover — 
Not dead! thank God! the sea, 

From out the gloom of the tempest. 
Has given him back to me. 



In the pine trees the winds still wail, 
But my sailor is sitting beside me, 
And I heed not the fiercest gale. 



THE BLUE BIRD. 

A LITTLE bird with a bright blue coat, 

This spring came chanting his musical note! 

Like silver bells the changes rang, 

And soft and clear was the song he sang; 

Beautiful bird with azure wing, 

First and fairest prophet of spring. 

He sang of the golden hours of May, 
Of ferny dells where shadows play, 
Of fragrant lilies bathed in dew. 
Of budding roses and violets blue; 
He sang, unheeding April showers; 
He sang to waken the dreaming flowers. 



A UrUMN LEA VES. 127 

He sang at the pearly gates of day, 

While shadows crept o'er the hills away; 

The echoing music softly fell 

Like childhood's dream of a fairy bell; 

A chorus so wild, so deep, so strong, 

That space o'erflowed with the wine of song. 

Naught to him was the leafless tree, 

Cheery, and brave and bright was he, 

And the purple clouds on the mountain crest, 

Where golden arrows of sunrise rest, 

Seemed a cathedral grand and tall, 

With the granite hills for tower and wall. 

And the birdling's wild and wayward song 
Grew to an anthem deep and strong. 
That told of Love, and Hope and Heaven, 
And the peace that comes to the sin-forgiven 
Who catch the gleam of light that lies 
Beyond the gates of Paradise. 

Ah! woodland preacher, such hopes you wake, 

My soul its bondage longs to break; 

I manel not that men of old 

Believed all music God controlled, 

Since weary years fade like a dream, 

And faith and hope are life supreme. 

"As is thy day, thy strength shall be," 
Through thy sweet song God speaks to me; 
In wintry hours or shades of night. 
With heart bowed low by sorrow's blight — 
What brooks the pain of life's short way, 
Since death is life's unending day! 



128 A UTUMN LEA VES. 



LITTLE SUNBEAM. 

LiTTLL SUNBEAM, darling sunbeam, 
Flitting through this world of care, 

Lighting up its dreary places, 
Till it seems an Eden fair. 

Little sunbeam, darling sunbeam. 
Prattling gailj through the day, 

Gathering roses from the bowers, 
Shaking dew-drops from the spray. 

Little sunbeam, darling sunbeam, 
Sweeter than the roses are — 

Song of robin, song of blue-bird, 
With thy notes hath no compare ! 

Little sunbeam, gentle sunbeam, 

Christ hath blessed thee, joyous child; 

Oh, may angels guard and keep thee 
Ever sin-free, undefiled! 



ONLY TEARS TO GIVE. 

You ASK for a song — I can give but tears. 
Tears for the loved ones gone before — 
While lonely and sad, on the wind-swept shore, 
I wander and gaze at the surging tide, 
And long to pass to the other side. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 129 

Ah, a wailing song — and the ^une must be 
Sad as the moan of the restless sea 
When the cloud-king rides on the breakers' foam, 
And storm-beat ships o'er the waters roam. 

You ask for a song — I can give but tears, 
For all I hear is the sexton's bell, 
Ringing, forever, a funeral knell; 
And ihe preacher's voice : " Let mourners pray! " 
-'The Lord who gave hath taken away." 
The oak can ne'er return to the vine, 
But the broken tendrils must upward climb 
Till they reach the throne — no death is there, 
And love— dear love, rich fruit shall bear. 

You ask for a song— I can give but tears, 
My heart is faint in the house of prayer, 
For the sight of a crown of silver hair. 
For the sound of a voice, forever still. 
Which could touch the heart— the pulses thrill; 
Where the light from the gothic windows falls, 
I can see only coffined form and pall, 
And the song in silence dies away. 
And shadows darken the light of day. 

You ask for a song— I can give but tears. 
For me no buds can ever bloom. 
Save the asphodel around the tomb. 
Earth is naught: '• Heaven is home." 
To sorrow no more; no more to roam. 
What thought so sweet, so fraught with joy: 
*'Sin can not enter'" — no pain destroy! 
O! days tly swift on the wings of prayer. 
For my soul would haste to enter there! 



I30 AUTVMJS LEAVES, 



LOST AND SAVED. 

Lost, a fragment of beauty, a half-broken rhyme, 
A dream, a fair flower, a moment of time. 
Opportunities golden, a glimmer of fame, 
A phantom of hope, an unuttered name. 

Lost, the boat that was launched on a treacherous stream, 
The joyous fulfillment of love's hallowed dream; 
The light of a home, the love of a life ; 
The hope which upheld when sorrow was rife. 

Lost, an "undying" promise, the bitter-sweet leaf 
Of the record of hopes. The half-ripened sheaf, 
Gathered too quickly, 'mid darkness and fears. 
Hid away from the sunlight and baptized with tears. 

Saved, the hope of a glory, unshadowed by fear, 
The light of a morning undimmed by a tear; 
The faith that looks upward to God as a friend, 
The heaven where peacefulness never shall end. 

Saved, the dream of a city where loving ones wait 
'Till angels shall open the "beautiful gate " — 
While we cross o'er the river so stormy and wide — 
Oh! the lilies that bloom on the heaven-bright side! 

Saved, the faith in the Master who stood by the sea, 
Calling to weary ones: " Come unto me!" 
Calling the way-worn : " Come and be blest; 
Lay aside all that cumbers and enter thy rest." 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 131 



MY DREAM. 

I DREAMED I roamcd the halls that lie 
Beyond night's azure conopy; 
I neared the stai^-lit dome sublime, 
Where cycling suns in glory shine. 
The milky-way, for angel feet, 
I found was but the golden street, 
And humbly there I paused to wait 
Where the pale seraph barred the gate. 

Beside the gate a gray haired man 
Waited " for blessing or for ban." 
' Master," he said, " I taught the way 
To gain the realms of endless day. 
No mystic rules, no man-made creed, 
I knew could reach the sinner's need. 
With zeal I preached the gospel plan 
Revealed by Christ to fallen man. 

I loved not power or wealth or fame, 
My all was hid in Jesus' name; 
I only sought for Bible light 
To guide me through the grave's dark night. 
< Christian ' I wrote in gleaming gold 
Upon our banner's sacred fold. 
Up the same path,- see fearless throngs. 
Bear the same name, sing the same songs! 

Wliile gazing on this scene, I stood, 
A voice (was it the voice of God?) 
Proclaimed : " A Christian outside waits, 
Lift up your heads, ye pearly gates; 



132 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Angels through Heaven the tidings bear, 
A new-born star night's brow shall wear: 
Bring robes for him, bright as the sun, 
And bring the crown his faith hath won. 

He bore on earth a heavy cross, 
And for my name he suffered loss: 
He clothed the naked, fed the poor, 
For sinners op'ed the gospel door; 
He conquered pride, envy and sin, 
That he the gate might enter in. 
Behold, the Christian seeketh rest, 
And finds it on the Savior's breast." 

No longer weary, faint, and lone, 
Our brother stood before the throne. 
But in the gardens of delight. 
With loved ones dressed in pearly white, 
Sang the new song, to mortals given. 
Who through great sorrow enter heaven; 
Bewildering bliss, beyond control. 
Touched with celestial fire his soul. 

God loved the world — He gave his son 
Jesus, "so loved," the deed was done; 
And man's redeemed by love divine — 
In heaven love's chain all hearts entwine; 
And, loving God, man gains the prize, 
Eternal life beyond the skies; 
For Love is God, and God is Love, 
And Love rules in the courts above, 



A UTUMN LEA VES, 133 



CHARITY. 



At your door sweet Charity's knocking; 

Let her in, and the angels will come 
And cheer you with lieavenly music 

On your march to your heavenly home. 

To give to the needy is blessed, 
To labor for Christ is sublime, 

The good that you do unto others, 
Will live in all coming time. 



IN MEMORY 



Of Sister Mary B. Howells of Cincinnati, Ohio, one of the most loving, faithfjl 
friends God ever gave me. Her life was the perfectness of religious thought, and 
the exemplification of all the virtues of Christianity. 

It is not long — not long ago — 
Since I clasped her hand at even-tide; 

Since, with bated breath and kindling eye. 
She talked of the golden streets, that lie 
Beyond the clouds, on the other side 

Of the death-cold stream, whose dreary moan, 
En-chilled our hearts, as she passed alone 
Across the waves. "Nay, friends, why weep? 
* He giveth his beloved sleep! ' " 



134 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

It is not long — not long ago — 
Since the voice we loved was hushed for a^'e, 
Since the thoughtful brow by death was paled. 
The violet eyes so softly veiled, 
And the lips we kissed were turned to clay! 
A vision of memory, sweetly fair, 
Oft kneels with n.e at the evening prayer, 

Whispering, while I sad vigils keep: 
" He giveth his beloved sleep! " 

It is not long — not long ago — 
Since she calmly sank to dreamless rest, 
Now, twining ivy and eglentine; 
The pale sweet-brier and Cyprus vine. 
Have woven a wreath upon her breast. 
Oft, in the watch ings of sorrow's night, 
I catch a gleam of her robes of light, 
Or list her voice at midnight deep : 
"He giveth his belo\ed sleep! " 

It is not long — not long ago — 
Yet the elder bloom, milk white and sweet, 
Kisses the marble; and roses fair 
And woodbine, with purple jewels rare, 
Twine with the grasses around her feet. 
While for us, sad years must come and go, 
'Tis hers the joys of heaven to know. 

We hear across the silence deep: 
" He giveth his beloved sleep! " 

It is not long — not long to wait — 
'Till lengthening shadows westward fall, 
'Till across the restless waves of time, 
Will fall the sound of the death-bell's chime. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. m 



Til we'll hear the waiting boatman call, 
And find, past the river's sullen flow. 
Friends who passed o'er not long ago— 

There saddest eves shall cea^e to weep— 
«' He giveth his beloved sleep! '* 



THE OUTCAST. 

She gazed at the pitiless skv, 

At the cold and barren earth, 
At the hungry river rushing by, 
And in deep dispair resolved to die, 

Cursing her hour cf birth. 
Her soul was deeply stained by crime— 
A wreck cast up from the city's slime. 

Why 'does she tremble and shrink 
At the ghastly thought of death? 

Why does she fear Lethe's cup to drink? 

Why fear in oblivion's arms to sink, 
If this life is but a breath? 

Does the spirit-germ in her darkened soul 

Revolt at death as man's final goal? 

Does a vision of childhood hours 
Sweep o'er her fevered brain? 

A dream of wildwood bowers. 

Of sunshine, buds and flowers, 
Before temptation came? 

A vision of home and its bliss, now lost 

To her sin-sick soul so tempest-tossed? 



136 A UTUMN LEA \ ^ZS. 

The bell in the church-tower gray, 

Within whose shadow she stands, 
Is calling believers to kneel and pray, 
While the "gate of hell " just over the way 

Throws its red light across the sand 
To where the river's cold, dark wave 
The hem of her fouler garment laves. 

" If I should kneel with the rest to pray, 

I wonder if God would hear? 
I am weary of sin's unhallowed sway — 
Will no one teach me the better way? " 

She cried in her doubt and fear; 
But with glances of hate and insolent pride, 
By the pious throng she was thrust aside. 

We talk of '■'■ this gospel day! " 

We call this a Christian land! 
Oh, God! when a sinner to Thee would pray, 
From the temple's gate she is turned away 

Alone in the street to stand. 
Wantonly, wickedly forced from the light. 
Left fainting and dizzy in darkness and night. 

And when, in the dreary morn, 

W^ith Avhite lips evermore dumb, 
W^ith garments ooze-dripping and torn, 
With face himger-stamped and sin-worn, 

She's dragged from the river's slum. 
Can you, from your brow, wash the mark of Cain? 
Can 3'ou call from earth's depths the soul you have slain? 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 137 



THE ANGELS OF THE FLOWERS. 

A SWEET May breeze from the South-land 

Whispered a wondrous tale, 
And the sun, from his golden quiver, 

Sent arrows o'er hill and dale. 

They pierced the mist of the morning, 
They scattered the chill of night, 

And filled the earth with a glory 
That dazzled the angels' sight. 

Then-Modesty called up her violets, 

Fragrant, and dewy, and fair; 
And, hiding them under the green leaves, 

Watched them with tenderest care. 

Purity scattered white lilies ; 

Love brought her roses red; 
Peace, with her wreath of laurel, 

Crowned the stern mountain's head. 

Charity spread her green mosses, 

Over rocks dreary and brown; 
While Faith, bending over the snow-drop, 

Wrought her a silvery crown. 

Hope, with her apple-blooms fragrant. 
Gave promise of harvests to come; 

While the blue-bird, among the gay branches, 
Was building his little thatch home. 



f38 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

But fairer than roses or lilies, 

Were the maidens who gathered the flowers, 
Singing the beauties of Maj-day 

Under the leafy bowers. 

And fairest of all the fair maidens 
Was Annie the queen of the day — 

As she sat on a throne in the sunlight, 
Wreathed with the blossoms of May. 

Alas, that Time's shadows should darken I 
Alas, that Death's powers should chill! 

May-day they crowned her with roses. 
The next — every heart-beat was still! 

May flowers still bloomed in the woodland, 
The sunlight lay fair on the hill, 

But beauty of bud or of blossom 
No more her pure spirit can thrill. 

No more? Faith whispers a story 
Of flowers that ne'er fade away; 

Of rivers and cities of glory, 
And treasures that never decay. 

Though pale as a bowed broken lily 
In her coffin they laid her away, 

A tar brighter crown she is wearing — 
Dear Annie, the queen of the May. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 139 



A LEGEND. 



Round a ruined tower, cheerless and graj; 

The ivy clung; 
In the belfry old, hung a rusty bell, 

With silent tongue, 

And the trees stood round like friars grim, 
While the mistletoe crept from limb to limb. 

Around the garden there is a wall, 

The wall is steep ; 
Within the garden there is a well, 

" The well is deep ; 
Around, above, the wild wind grieves, 
And strews the ground with withered leaves. 

No mortal in the moo.nlight pale, 

E'er lingers there; 
Belated travelers hurry by 

With silent prayer; 
For the legend says: " One dreary night, 
In the lonely well, Truth hid from sight." 

Mortals are more afraid of Truth 

Than sheeted ghost; 
Their claims to love her honest face, 

An idle boast; 
For the whole world scorns the honest poor, 
And smiles on a villain with golden dower. 

You ask me why the Truth should hide. 

Deep in the well? 
Her friends are few, her foes great power 



r 40 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

No man maj tell! 
When Falsehood's chariot rattles bv, 
Few know, or care, where Truth may lie. 

Perhaps, when ages roll away 
And men grow wise, 

God's Sun will light that garden chill, 
And Truth may rise; 

Then, the serpents, Pride and Lust, 

Their crested heads shall trail in dust. 



THE CITY. 



Describe the city! Ah, Avhere begin? 
With its palace-homes, or haunts of sin? 
With its dingy dens, where the midnight lamp 
Burns pale in the fetid cellar damp — 
Burns pale, while age and childhood creep 
Down slimy stairs from the dreary street. 

Shall I tell of prisoners hidden, where 

There comes no breath of heaven's pure air? 

Of youth and beauty fallen low. 

Of steps that ever downward go, 

Till angels, weeping, turn aside 

Where no plank bridges the loathesome tide? 

Prisons and churches are builded high, 

In their shadow the cringing thief shrinks by; 

The blood-red light aluring shines 

Where the tempter coils in the sparkling wines; 

And the ceaseless "click" of ivory balls 

On the gambler's ear like music falls. 



A UTUMN LEA VES. H^ 

Describe the city! A pen ot fire, 
In angel's hand that would never tire, 
Would fail to paint the ghastlj gloom 
Of dark crime-haunted dens of doom. 
Where rum-made maniacs — eyes aglare — 
With oaths pollute the midnight air. 

Some spend the night in dance and play, 
Others by death-beds, kneeling, pray. 
The murderer, with stealthy tread, 
In darkness hides the dagger red; 
And ever restless, weary feet 
Wear to dust the stony street. 

And must this fearful march of crime 
Go ever on till the end of time? 
Forever on in a chaos wild, 
Souls sin-begotten and sin-defiled, 
Sowing their seed of hate and woe, 
Waiting and watching to see it grow? 

O! for a love that would reach the hearts 

Of the "Arabs" who thi-ong the crowded marts; 

For a voice to pierce the soul of those 

Who deal out death and endless woes — 

For power to whisper: "Peace, be still," 

To the surging tide of human ill. 

Is God well pleased with offered gold 

While the love he claims is waxing cold? 

Alas, for people; alas, for priest! 

Where are " Qirist's poor" in your gospel feasts? 

Have you whispered to lowly sinners: " Come 

And find in the ' union ' hope and home? " 



142 AUTUMN LEAVES. 

In pride jou have builded your temples high, 

Reaching the blue of the arching sky. 

Will fire on the gilded altar burn, 

When heaven's commands you so lightly spurn? 

When "forms" and fashion and vain display 

In pulpit and pew hold ruthless sway? 



Laboring in far and foreign lands, 
While a worse than heathen darkness bides, 
In haunts where crime its foulness hides, 
And a darker than Burman darkness rests, 
O'er the vaunted cities of the West? '* 



YOUTH AND AGE. 

List' to the music o'er the way. 
Children singing at their play: 
"Around, around. 
Our king is found," 
Keeping time as round they go, 
Cheeks and eyes and lips a-glow. 

A sad-eyed woman drawing near. 
Half smiles, the quaint old song to hear: 
*' Around, around, 
Our king is found.'* 
Memory restores the sunny day. 
Of happy childhood's careless play. 

An old man bent with three score years. 
In his dim eyes, feels gathering tears, 
Pausing to hear, 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 143 

The distich queer — 
O! where are those who used to sing 
When he stood in the whirling ring? 

Alas! of all that happy .throng, 
He, only, found the journey long. 

Full many a mound. 

In sacred ground. 
Guarded by marble, white and chill, 
In few brief words the storj*- tell. 

Oh! there are " trifles, light as air," 
That seem to blot out years of care, 

While memory pale. 

Uplifts the vail, 
Ancl we behold the checkered way 
Our feet have pressed since childhood's day. 

If we have whispered words of cheer 
To other weary travelers here : 

Sincere in heart. 

To do our part. 
To help the brotherhood of man. 
According to Christ's loving plan ; 

If we have loved truth's holy ways — • 
If we, by faith, can heavenward gaze, 

We'll say good-bye, 

To years that lie 
Like milestones 'long the backward way, 
Nor long for childhood's sunny day. 



144 ^ UTUMN LEA VES. 



•i'HY WAY. 

On TIME'S solemn shores I am standing, 

Fair Hope has taken her flight, 
The flowers in Love's garden have faded 

And perished, in Pain's bitter night. 

Mv path is by Death over-shadowed. 
Love's hand-clasp is broken in twain, 

From the realms of the dead, for one whisper, 
Heart-sick I have listened in vain. 

M}' day draws near to its closing. 
The sands in the glass running low— 

And over life's hill-slope the twilight 
Grows purple, in night's afterglow. 

"No night! " where the loved one is straying, 
No parting, no sorrow, no tears! 

No shadow in all the bright mornings 
That make up eternity's years! 

O, Savior! in doubt and in darkness. 
In the hours of my weakness and pain, 

Let me hold to thy dear hand, believing 
Earth's sorrows are never in vain! 

Let me follow thy feet in the desert, 
Thy way through the valley of tears. 

Thy path up the steeps of the mountain — 
Thy love over-aixhing all fears. 



A UTUMN LEA VES, 145 

Speak to my soul 'mid the shadows, 

From my pathway all sunshine has fled; 

As I pass through the gloom of the midnight 
Let faith light the stars overhead. 



A PRAYER. 



O, Savior, watch this night with me I 

I dare not watch alone ! 
For pain's dark presence veils God's face 

And hides the heavenly home! 
And faith grows weak, and prayers seem vain, 

The Avay I can not see. 
The cross is heavy and I faint ; 

Dear Savior, strengthen me! 

In my sad heart's Gethsemane, 

To thee alone I cry, 
For withered leaves, and faded flowers, 

Along mj^ pathway lie — 
The sport of every idle wind, 

Their beauty long since fled. 
And voices of the past wail out 

A requiem of the dead. 

Toll, funeral bells! toll for dead hopes, 

For joys too sweet to last, 
For sunny skies, which gathering clouds 

Too quickly overcast I 



146 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Dreams of ambition, dreams of love, 
All frail and earth-born things, 

For to them all, since mortals sinned, 
The curse of Eden clings. 

Dear Jesus, I would walk with thee I 

I can not Avalk alone — 
The earthly path that I must tread, 

With thoi-ns is over-grown! 
The clouds are thick above mj head, 

I can not see the light, 
But with Thy true hand leading me, 

I will not fear the night. 



WISHES. 

ADDRESSED TO MRS. A. R. BENTON. 

If I WERE the brightest star in heaven, 
That burns on the brow of night, 

Mj fairest beam should fall on thee, 
And make thy pathway bright.. 

If I were the fairest of roses fair, 
I would give my sweetest breath, 

Glad, in dying, if thy pure lips 
Caressed me e'en in death. 

If I were a '' charm " no darkling pain, 
Should dim thy brightest hour; 

Balm, on the breeze of morn should come, 
With its breath of healing power. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 147 

If I were a gem, in ocean's cave, 

I would plead with the restless sea, 
That from the voiceless, trackless depths, 

I should be "wave tossed" to thee. 

If I were the soul of music sweet, 

I would sing thee a song divine, 
I would soothe thy soul with fairy strains 

Pure from the spirit's shrine. 

If I were the spirit of hope, 

I would weave a spell so fair, 
That thy path should ever be as blessed, 

As " the paths of angels are. ' 

I think, were angels thy face to see, 

To heaven they would quickly fly 
To ask if a spirit, glory crowned. 

Had wandered from the sky. 



'TIS HOME WHERE THE HEART IS. 

"Where is thy home? " I asked a laughing boy 
Who, gladly whistling, roamed the breezy hills; 
His face lit vip with looks of artless joy: 
" My home? 'tis where my own dear mother dwells! " 

"Where is thy home? " I asked a maiden fair 
Who watched her lover join the warrior band; 

"My home," she cried, " is where young Roderick roams 
Upon his milk-white charger — in a distant land." 



hs 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 

" Where is thy home? " I asked a jeoman strong, 
Who swung his scythe to merry roundelay: 

" 'Tis where my children and their mother dwell ; 
Yon cot, o'er which the sweet, wild roses stray.'* 

"Where is thy home? O, aged Christian, where, 
Amid the strife and toil of weary years? " 

'* My home? not on the rocky shores of time, 

But, where the jasper walls and golden gates appear/* 



THE WOODLAND RIVER. 

I WANDERED in the shadowy wood, 

When April, fair and wise. 
Kissed the arbutus' dewy lips 

Till she blushed in shy surprise. 
A dreaming fountain lay asleep, 

With a lily on her breast. 
While sheeny willows, bending low, 

Guarded her place of rest. 

" O, happy fountain, hid secure 

Through time's unnumbered years, 
Would, I thus slept in nature's arms. 

Secure from life's dark tears." 
I paused, the fountain's silver voice 
Murmured this solemn thought: 
** To labor is the better creed ; 
By pain all peace is bought." 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 149 

I wandered on, a tiny brook 

Dancing, joyous and free, 
Carried unbought beauty and life 

To fern, and flower, and tree. 
But ah, tl.e little hill-side stream 

Grew broad, and deep, and grand, 
And sweeping down the jagged rocks, 

Its thunders shook the land. 

For lo, earth's rocky fingers failed 

To hold the waters rife; 
Dashing the white spray from their brow, 

They shout: " Labor is life." 
And thus, O, valley-stream, I learn 

God's promises abound, 
With earnest of a perfect rest 

To man, when labor-crowned. 



THE YEAR'S DIARY. 

The south wind whispers, and from the mold 
The thousand beauties of spring unfold — 
Blue-eyed violets, daisies fair. 
Wild sweet-brier and maiden-hair. 

The plow-boy, whistling, mocks the quail, 
And the children launch their tiny sail 
In the meadow brook, that bears away 
The mimic ship to the distant bay. 

Like a dream of hope, the spring-time fades. 
And mazy summer fills the glades; 



150 A XJTUMN LEA VES. 

The cricket croons his drowsy note, 
The butterfly plumes his gorgeous coat. 

Amid the aisles of growing corn, 
The poppy smiles to the smiling morn, 
And the gladsome lark sings a roundelay 
Amid the swathes ot new-mown hay. 

Wild and exultant, merry and glad. 
But never a note complaining or sad; 
And the farmer sighs, as he catches the air, 
** If I, like the lark, were but free from care.'* 

Then he turned his steps where the meadow hay, 
Fresh in its dewy sweetness lay, 
And murmured the while : " The set of sun 
Will find me still with my task undone." 

But summer ended, the harvest was o'er, ^ 

The reaper had gathered his golden store j 
The song of the cricket is hushed and still, 
And brown leaves shiver in winds a-chill. 

"Autumn is dying," the north wind sighs; 

•' Autumn is dying," the cold earth cries; 
And my heart is filled with a sad unrest, 
For hopes have faded — I loved the best. 

Farewell! Old Year; you have digged a grave 
For the love of one I'd have died to save; 
How, then, can I make a New Year's feast? 
And who shall I bid as a New Year's guest? 

Hope is dead! but Faith shall be 
The guest that I bid to sup with me. 



A UrUMN LEA VES. 15 i 

God sends her — lest I go astray; 

In all coming dajs she shall lead the vvaj. 

God giveth us all another vear, 
To sow our seed, in his holy fear. 
Farewell! Old Year; duty's the goal 
That henceforth shall gleam before my soul* 

Though weary and rough the mountain*'s track, 
My eyes to the plain shall ne'er turn back; 
But I'll pray for strength for the weary way, 
Which is ushered in on this New Year's day. 



THE CHRISTIAN POETESS, MARIE R. BUTLER. 

She dwells upon a holy mount, 

From mortals set apart, 
And drinks from that celestial fount, 

Which purifies the heart; 
She joys the heavenly seed to sow. 
Which in God's field shall thrive and grow. 

The angels kissed her as she slept, 

Her lips were sanctified; 
They o'er her heart their vigils kept 

Till song was glorified; 
Like dews of Hermon o'er her head, 
The gifts that angels bring were shed. 

No vain, no idle song she sings, 

Priestess to poesy's shrine, 
The bright, pure fancies that she brings, 



tS2 AUTUMN LEAVES. 

God's Spirit makes divine. 
Her words, like manna, fall to bless 
The wanderers in life's wildei'ness. 

The loathsome serpents, pride and sin, 
That trail beneath the leaves, 

From her pure pen no tolerance win — 
She binds no mildewed sheaves; 

Yet her broad, loving charity 

Is deep and boundless as the sea. 

She sings of Clirist, our thorn-crowned King, 
Who bowed to God's behest, 

And gathered all death's bitter pangs 
To his own sinless breast. 

The tones that thrill earth's purple skies, 

But echo Heaven's grand harmonies. 



POOR FARMER JOHN. 

Old farmer John is sore perplexed^ 
Nay, farmer John is really vexed: 
He labors early, labors late. 
Yet ever talks of adverse fate; 
For all his toilings scarce suffice, 
Of longed-for lands to pay the price. 

The summers come, the summers go, 

The spring showers waste the winter's snow 

The while, from dawn till close of day, 



AUTUMN LEA VES. 153 

Receiving naught but frowns for pay; 
His good wife toils, and anxious care 
Has faded lip and cheek and hair. 

Acres on acres stretch away 
Of woodland, corn, of wheat and hay, 
His cattle roam o'er many a hill. 
His brooklet turns the groaning mill^ 
Yet still he sighs and longs for more, 
And grumbles e'er that he is poor. 

Four sturdy sons, four daughters fair 
Claim at his hands a father's care. 
He gave them labor without end, 
And strove their souls, like his, to bend 
Into the narrow groove of thought : 
«' Gold to be earned, land to be bought." 

Yes, farmer John is growing poor! 
You feel it as you pass his door. 
His old brown house is small and mean, 
The roof is warped by crack and seam; 
The leaning bars, the half-hinged door, 
Proclaim old John is very poor. 

No books: no pictures on the wall; 
Carpetless rooms and dreary hall. 
Why think it strange such farmers' boys 
Should seek the city's pomp and noise? 
Should learn to loathe the sight of home, 
Where naught of joy or grace may come? 

Why think it strange his poor, old wife. 
Who coined for him her very life. 
Should pause at last, despite his frown, 



154 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

And lay her weary burden down 

In joy, to walk the streets of heaven? 

Where naught is sold, but all is given? 

Go where you will, search earth around, 
The poorest man that can be found. 
Is he who toils, through life, to gain 
Widest extent of hill and plain; 
Forgetting all his soul s best needs, 
In counting o'er his title-deeds. 



SUBMISSION. 

"Thy will be done! " thus we are taught to pray- 
By lips divine. 
**Thy will be done! " Ah, can we always say 
"Thy will," not mine? 
'Mid tears and loss and pain. 
When all the past seems vain, 
And death the greatest gain. 
Can we still say: "Thy will, thine aiway?" 

"Thy will be done," with Thee I would abide. 

Cease, burning tears! 
"Thy will be done! " Perish, O, heart of pride 
And earth-born fears! 
Soul, still thy frantic cries 
O'er broken human ties; 
Though hope in anguish dies 
A wiser will than man's, shall be my guide. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 155 

"Thy will be done! " I whisper, bending low, 
<'Thj will, not mine! " 
When waves of pain, my sad soul overflow, 

The Hand divine 
Can shield from sorrow's dart — 
Can heal the wounded heart 
From loved ones doomed to part: 
Thy will, Thine only would I know. 



GOD'S PROMISE. 

While Autumn mourns her falling leaves, 
And God calls for his ripened sheaves; 
While storms are beating on my head, 
And every joy of earth is dead. 
Faith whispers : " This is promised thee : 
< As is thy day, thy strength shall be.' " 

The earth mourns a lost ray of light, -/ 
But radiant spheres have grown more bright, 
The key of Faith has opened wide 
The star-locked gate across the tide ; 
And comes from thence this melody: 
« As is thy day, thy strength shall be." 

"There is no day without its night; " 
No hope but feels sorrow's dread blight. 
To Death's cold sceptre hearts must bow, 



iS6 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

And withered leaves crown every brow; 
But still God's promise comes to me: 
** As is thy day, thy sti-ength shall be." 

When fevered heart-beats waste the life, 
And all the air with pain is rife; 
When all the earth can yield no rest, 
And anguish 'bides within my breast, 
Comes answer to my agony: 
**As is thy day, thy strength shall be." 

Ah! those who up the mountain climb 
With bleeding feet, to heights sublime; 
Who reach the home beyond the stars. 
Whisper back, through golden bars: 
*' Receive God's promise trustingly: 
* As is thy day, thy strength shall be.' " 

Aged and helpless! O, my soul! 
Before thee is the promised goal, 
And God-commissioned Death draws near 
To hush all heart-ache. Dost thou fear? 
The midnight stars whisper to thee : 
**As is thy day, thy strength shall be." 



AUTUMN LEAVES, * 157 



DOES HE KNOW ? 

Does He know the weary way? 

The clouds that overcast the day? 

The thorns that pierce me when I stray? 

Does He know how hard the fight? 
Th^ fears which the lone heart afright? 
The darkness of the starless night? 

Does He know, when sad and lorn, 
When lost each earthly hope, we mourn, 
Our hearts by fearful conflict torn? 

Does He know, how fierce and wild 
The tempest beats upon His child, 
Out-reaching for climes undefiled? 

Does He know the toil and care? 

The longing cries, the ceaseless prayer ? 

For strength to do and strength to bear? 

As Hagar found, when in her flight 
Abra'am's white tents faded from sight, 
Her darkest hour o'er-crowned with light, 

When wandering in our desert drear. 
Bowed down with anguish, doubt and fear. 
Shall we too find our angel near? 

Will He our load of weary care 

Lift from our hearts, and kindly bear 

Whene'er we light the lamp of prayer? 



158 , AUTUMN LEAVES. 

When wrecked upon life's raging sea, 
Tossed upon breakers "on the lee," 
Will He the life-boat send to me? 

Weak and trembling with afright, 
How can I sail where all is night? 
How can I find the beacon light? 

Or will He whisper, soft and low, 
"Pe-^cc," when winds too fiercely blow? 
When o'er me deepest waters flow? 

Will He bid the waves recede 

In the soul's hour of darkest need. 

Nor " break the bruised and bending reed? " 

When we can say: "Thj will be done! " 
We then can know the battle won, 
And peace of heaven on earth begun. 

Bj patient doing, glory's won! 

Ba' swift hours flitting, life is done! 

By faith's hand-clasping, heaven's begun! 



HIDDEN LIFE. 



Plant the seed in the silent earth. 
The Master will give it a glorious birth; 
ISIysterious life's in the casket brown — 
A royal robe and a golden crown. 

And soon from its lowly grave 'twill rise, 
A gift from the garden of Paradise, 



A UTIJMN LEA VES. ^59 

With lips dew-laden, wondrous tair, 
A child ot the sun, a bride of the air. 

Are ye weary, toiling from morn till night? 
A blessing will follow, but do the right; 
There is no harvest for idle hands, 
No grapes where thistle or brier stands. 

No lilies, white as the drifting snow, 
In bramble thickets will bud and blow. 
The lowly pansy, with violet eyes, 
Neglected, weeps, and weeping dies. 

Life's dreariest spot may yield sweet flowers, 
And its darkest day have some sunny hours; 
But -only the toilers will see the sun, 
Or gather the flowers when the day is done. 

There's a promise oji every hill-side brown, 
When Autumn shall shower her blessings down; 
Then plant the seed and prune the vine, 
For the harvest is sure, in God's good time. 



OUR LIFE DREAM. 

How OFTEN they tell us 'tis only a dream— 

This beautiful life of ours— 
That, floating with hope down the amber-waved stream, 

In her shallop, 'mid fairy-like flowers, 
W^e shall wake by-and-by on a tempest-tossed sea, 

And our bark will be shattered and torn ; 



i6o A UTUMN LEA VES. 

The floAver-banked river lie far at our lee, 
While our white sails are drooping and lorn. 

Life is not a dream — the waves maj^ be wild, 

And its waters well nigh overwhelm — 
The tempest of old obeyed the voice mild, 

While Faith, with her hand on the helm. 
Steered through the black midnight of old Galilee: 

So we, with one Star for our guide. 
Shall conquer the sorrows of life's stormy sea, 

And its dangers and tempests outride. 



A HOME ON THE OTHER SIDE. 

I HAD launched my boat on a stormy sea, 

The waves were rolling high; 
The roar of the breakers met my ear — 

And dark clouds met my eye! 

Pain was the pilot that steered the bark, 

Over the ocean of tears, 
And I heard him laugh a horrible laugh, 

As he spoke of the coming years. 

We are steering now for the river of death. 

He said in terrible glee. 
And the demons joined their mocking laugh, 

With the roar of the angry sea. 

Faster and faster the boat sailed on; 
Near was the rushing tide 



AUTUMN LEAVES. i6i 

That severs the world from the great unknown, 
Which lies on the other side. 

I cried in mj agonizing grief; 

I prayed for strength and aid ; 
A Star arose in the distant East, 

And its beams on the waters played. 

I am sailing still towards the river of death, 

But Bethlehem's Star is my guide 
To a life of duty — a peaceful death. 

And a home on the other side. 



A TRIBUTE OF LOVE. 

ADDRESSED TO MRS. S. J. PEARCE. 

On earth thou bearest a sacred name, 
And angels to thee kindred claim, 

And guard thy onward road. 
The sick, the weary and oppressed, 
Find in thy presence peace and rest; 
And nightly prayers for thee ascend, 
From those who love and call thee friend, 

Remembering thee to God. 

Thou art enshrined by truth and love; 
And bounteous blessings from above 

Are scattered round thy way. 
A type of heaven thy dwelling place. 
An angel-beauty in thy face, 



i6a A UTUMN LEA VES, 

So soul-illumined; and thine eye 
Has caught a glorj from on high, 
To light life's changeful day. 

From the pure altar of thy home, 
Thy loved ones never long to roam, 

'Mid life's temptations dark; 
For over all its lambent skies 
Thou art the sun that glorifies — 
The sweet o'er-mastering influence still, 
To win from every thought of ill, 

The dove of thy dear ark. 

A sacred heritage from heaven. 
Thy noble mind to thee was given, 

A lamp to bless and guide 
Those who in bondage sigh and moan, 
Those who in darkness walk alone; 
Thy charity broad as the skies, 
Kindles a flame that never dies, 

O'er-reaching death's cold tide. 

Thou'st long since reached faith's mountain height. 
And standing there, in God's pure light. 

Heaven is not far from thee ; 
And sweet Hope whispers : " Yonder blue 
But hides the glorified from view — 
The household band — behold they wait 
For thee beside the star-gemmed gate, 
*Near to the Jasper sea.' " 



AUTUMN LEA VES, 



163 



DEAD? 



You CALL him dead? He has gone before, 
And, waiting, stands by the open door, 
With a star on his brow to h"ght my way, 
Lest, the path grown dark, my teet should stray. 

" His voice is silent? " Ah, no! a prayer 
Is borne to my ears on the midnight air: 

" She is lonely now in a weary land ; 
Guard her, dear Lord, that her feet may stand, 

Firm on the Rock! " Ah! light and life 
Must e'er be born of clouds and strife; 
And the blood-stained cross of Palestine, 
Saw the Son of Man crowned Lord Divine. 

When mists arise like phantoms gray, 
Faith parts the veil of doubt and fear. 
And we see the " Glory of the Lord " 
Shine softly out through the midnight drear. 

Grief's ministry, fast-falling tears. 
Must overshadow the coming years; 
While all is darkness, above, around, 
/ know God lovetJi the sorrovj-cro-W7ied, 



1 64 A UTUMN LEA VES, 



SPIRIT LONGINGS. 

Eternity's watchers! bright gleaming stars! 

O, make me a ladder of light, 
That from these low valleys of sorrow and weeping, 

I may climb to jour infinite height! 

O, angels of glory! throw open your doors, 

Your wondrous songs would I hear, 
As the}^ float down through ether, from regions elysian. 

Where dwelleth no shadow or fearl 

Spirit of Beauty! in letters of light, 

We read of the ''glory to be," 
On golden-crowned mountains, flower-wreathed valleys 

And the unwritten songs of the sea. 

O, Night! let me hide in your mantle's dark folds, 

For, haply, to loved ones once more, 
The feet of the ransomed, through pearl-gates may wander 

Back from eternity's shore! 

Rainbow of Promise! o'er hilltops of gold, 
Let my feet, from these lowlands of pain, 

Cross over your bars of purple and azure. 
To the fount on the evergreen plain! 

Dreams of the night time! O, whisper to me, 
Of the rapturous joy of that home. 
Where, deathless, they dwell in mansions of glory. 
Who from garth's pathways have gone I 



A UTUMN LEA VES, 165 

Winds of the morning! O, bear me away, 

For, see the pearl-gates half unfold, 
While I kneel in the dawn, and gaze through the portal 

On the loved ones now safe in the fold I 

Voice of the Past! only tears canst thou give, 

And regrets for the day that is done! 
But thy skeleton fingers! O, Time, are still pointing 

To battle-fields yet to be wonl 



THE WOMAN'S WAR. 

" A WAR to be remembered " 
Falls from a poet's pen 
Remembered! Yes! while ages 
Roll o'er the works of men. 

*'Down with the tyrant Alcohol! " 
And legions of the strong. 
Brave women of the nation rise 
And fill the air with song. 

They sing of the Redeemer, 
And with a faith divine 

They brave the stormy elements 
And form in battle line. 

With singing and with prayers 
They meet Satanic hosts 



i66 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Though slandered, stoned, imprisoned, 
Their faith is never lost. 

Wielding no carnal weapons, 
Theirs is a bloodless fight, 

Yet a New Age and better day 
Is ushered into light. 

In patience, never weary 

With power before unknown ; 

The " Spirit Sword " they're wielding, 
Wrong will be overthrown. 

The very earth is startled, 
At the rays of light, sublime, 

Which are lighting up the glory, 
On the brow of coming time. 

Deliverance, lo! it cometh! 

Prayer is never breathed in vain — 
Never wasted— God who hears it. 

Sends in answer " growth and gain. " 

Pray on, " Daughters of Heaven! " 

In all the coming time. 
The echoing arch of centuries. 

Shall " hold your lives sublime. " 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 167 



PALMYRA. 

"City of Palms! " alone, alone 

Amid the arid sand, 
Peopleless wreck of ages past, 

Thy broken columns stand. 
Thy haughty pride to earth is crushed, 
Th}' crowded marts to silence hushed. 

The wild beast of the desert roams 
, Through sacred halls 'neath ruined domes; 
Silence and mystery entomb 
Thy fabled courts, thy gardens' bloom. 

O, fallen Queen! O, desei-t Star! 

Thy light is dimmed and gone, 
And darkness rests o'er Syrian plains 

"Where once thy glory shone. 
The moaning wind, the jackal's cry, 
The wandering Arab passing by. 

The palsied pulse, the phantom tread 

Are signets of a city dead, 
A mighty tomb, a ghastly sleep, 
A wreck, which earth's dim records keep. 

Dark night " sits brooding o'er decay, '* 

Girt 'round by voiceless space, 
While the deep mystery of death 

Enfolds a vanished race. 
From Roman lips the mandate came; 
The sword flashed like a breath of flame; 



r68 A UTUMN LEA VES, 

Zenobia's doom a¥id thine were sealed, 
Upon the midnight battle-field, 
And the proud car of Roman state, 
For all time left thee desolate. 

Deserted fane and battlement! 

War-broken shaft and tower! 
In thee we see earth's littleness, 

The end of pride and power. 
While drifting sands entomb their prey, 
Hiding from man they slow decay, 

Where only funeral ivy twines 

'Round rifled tombs and ruined shrines; 
Life's storied pages can but seem 
Pale meteor lights on Time's swift stream. 



FAITH. 



Are you often sad and weary? 
Do life's paths seem dark and dreary? 
Cease all sinning, cease all grieving, 
Jesus calls, O, come believing! 

Mourner, sad and broken hearted, 
From thy loved ones art thou parted? 
Hark! a voice to thee is crying, 
»' Look aloft, " and cease all sighing. 

See, the heavy cross is glorious. 
Since the bleeding Lamb victorious 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 169 

Conquered death and sin and sorrow, 
Lifting clouds from Death's to-morrow. 

Have you faith? then never falter, 
Lay your heart upon God's altar. 
For however weary, weeping, 
Jesus holds thee in His keeping. 

Have you faith! in City glorious, 
Christ tb.e Loving's gone before us, 
For the faithful, pure and lowly, 
Builds a mansion fair and holy. 

Faith's the password into Heaven, 
When love has all our sins forgiven, 
Where beside life's glittering river 
Faith is lost in sight forever. 



HOME. 

You TELL me the little cottage stands 

'Neath the same wide spreading trees; 
That vines o'er-clamber the rustic porch. 

And imprison the summer breeze. 
No longer to us is it " Home, sweet home; " 

For sunshine, nor fairest flowers. 
Can bring to our hearts the love and hope. 

Or joy, of the vanished hours. 



170 AUT UMN LEA VES. 

Hours which memory alone holds fast, 

Safe from unhallowed hands, 
As the ocean holds her purest gems 

Enwrapped in her silver sands. 
On mount or plain, o'er all the earth, 

Home can never more be found; 
Silent, we bow our heads in dust, 

And in tears are sorrow-crowned. 

Home! 'tis alone where a mother's hands 

Shut the door on grief and tears, 
Where the mystic gate of love is locked 

'Gainst care and earth-born fears. 
Alas! a grave its shadow casts. 

Heavy and dark, and cold 
Across the hearth where hope had strewn 

Joy-buds that can ne'er unfold. 

Do souls straightway forget the cross, 

As they gaze on the glorified One.? 
Or do they look back o'er the blood-tracked path, 

And watch how our battles are won.? 
Does the dazzling light of eternal day 

From their gaze shut our tear-stained eyes? 
Do the songs of the blessed so thrill their hearts 

That they hear not our anguished cries? 

If the pearly gates, by angel guards, 

For a moment unclosed might be. 
Could we catch the song our loved ones sing 

To-day by the Jasper sea, 
The path that our faltering feet must tread. 

As we're " passing under the rod," 
Would seem less drear could we hear the songs 

They sing in the " city of God." 



A UTUMN LEA VES. 171 



LIFE'S LESSON. 

The tiny se^, in the furrow deep, 

Buried in darkness and Avet witli rain, 
Waking to life from its silent sleep, 
Holdeth its life-work not in vain. 
And not in vain is the gloom of night, 
Since from out the darkness springeth the light, 
Since from out the death-mold, the growing corn 
So glorified, waiteth the harvest morn. 

The flower that blooms in the forest aisles. 

Afar from the ken of human sight, 
Looks to the skies and lovingly smiles. 

Upward reaching to life and light; 
Glad in that life, since the Father who made, 
Shelters her there in the mossy-green glade. 
Ah! not in vain, since He willeth it so 
Do the shy wild flowers in their beauty grow. 

The brook, half hidden by ferny banks. 

Sings gladsome songs of sweet content, 
And the stately pines in serried ranks. 

And hardy laurels, gnarled and bent, 
Ne'er murmur when storm-clouds are hov'ring nigh, 
Or tempests, black-winged, sweep over the sky; 
But with upraised arms, they evermore pray: 
' Give us strength, dear Lord, for the darkest day." 

The endelwisse, on the Alpine height, 

Amid the glaciers lifts its face. 
Pure as a dream, in the glowing light. 

Child of the snowy mountain place; 



,1 72 A UTUMN LEA VES. 

Alone in the storm she veileth her ejes, 
Shy, pale and sweet, 'neath the snow-laden skies, 
Glad since the Father hath made her so fair, 
The trials he sends to lovingly bear. 

The storm-cleft rock where the lichen creeps, 

Growing gray in the march of time, 
Of long past ages a record keeps ; 

Nations may fall, yet still, sublime. 
Shall the age-worn turrets unshaken stand, 
To teach us the power of the Master's hand; 
That hand oft chastens, yet, afar, through the gloom, 
On the dark rough rock, see the roses bloom. 

Then garner for aye, lessons of hope; 

Cling to 3'our faith in sorrow's night; 
Trim your ship's sails! hold fast to the rope I 

After darkness cometh the light. 
Learn then from nature that no life is vain, 
Though shadowed by darkness, sorrow and pain; 
This lesson is taught, with each passing hour, 
That strengthened by duty, weakness is power. 



A UTUMN LEA VES, 173 



HERE AND HEREAFTER. 



A saddened heart, 
To know, that in the busy world 
I have no part; 

To know that other hands must sow, 

And others reap; 
To know that I can never climb 

The mountain steep; 

That on its top I may not stand 

In sunlight free; 
That only barren, storm-swept heaths 

Remain for me. 

The past is rife with haunting dreams, 
Dreams that have fled — 

Spectres dark from shadow-land, 
Hopes that are dead. 



Ah! 'tis the gladdest thing to know, 

While here I weep, 
That when the weary da}^ is done, 

Comes rest and sleep; 

That while I Avalk life's tangled path 

With bleeding feet — 
Where flowers by thorns are overgrown- 

'Mid summer's heat, 



174 A UTUMN LEA VES, 

That Beulah's green and shady groves 

Ai-e just in sight, 
Where storms and darkness may not come, 

And all is light. 

The passing years may come and go, 

The rains may fall — 
But love, that only wounds to heal, 

Is over all. 

The clouds may darken all my skies, 

And life may fail; 
But only light and love are found 

Beyond the veil. 



THE OCEAN-DEAD. 

The ocean's restless, never ceasing moan — 
The music of the " ever sounding sea " — 

A mystic song to all the ages past, 
A mystic song in ages j'et to be. 

Ah! do they sing of those who sweetly rest 

Amid bright shells and golden-gleaming sands. 

Who through the death-cold waters, dark and deep. 
Triumphant passed to reach the glory-land? 

The blue waves sweep above the forms of kings; 

Right royal is the shroud their loom er-vveaves, 
Of emeralds, amber, amethyst, and gold. 

In hues as rare as autumn's richest leaves. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 175 

Youth and old age together fell asleep, 

All dreamlesslj^, upon a bed of pearls; 
Bright gems entwine the scattered locks of gray, 

And form a wreath for childhood's silken curls. 

Pearl-lighted halls beneath the crested waves, 
Weary earth-feet may never, never tread ; 

Nor earthly voice e'er break the silence deep. 
Which icily enwraps the ocean-dead. 

The saddest soul may find a sweet repose — 
A painless sleep, within the ocean's breast, 

Where galling chains, which wearily are worn, 
At last are loosed, leaving an endless rest. 

Ah, bjessed sleep! sleep of the ocean-dead! 

No weary earth-moan wakes their last repose; 
For them the grand memorial shall be 

Chanted, till angel hands Time's Book shall close. 



176 A UTUMN LEA VES, 



AUTUMNALIS. 

Hopes that have faded away, like the leaves, 

And buds of promise unblown, 
The trailing arbutus, and hemlock and rue, 

Have been woven into mj crown. 
Since a crown of thorns the Master wore, 
Shall I grieve that roses are not mj store? 

I know that my wreath of pale ''Autumn Leaves," 

Is faded, withered and brown, 
But humbly, now, at the foot of the cross, 

I will lay my offering down; 
Mayhap, the Master, who knoweth all pain, 
Will whisper: " Your toiling is not in vain." 



